The Girl With Green Eyes
by Gumdrop Boo
Summary: Jaythen has never wanted to be who he is - can he forget about the past and face his future? He finds a girl with green eyes that shares a similar will, but yet she is not like him at all. They search for truth and both find the unexpected.
1. Prologue

_Atop the hill, underneath the near-leafless oak tree was where the people grieved._

_The men wore their faces grim. The ladies sobbed or tried not to be too loud as tears dribbled down their faces from their eyes. One lady above them all bawled loudly. Her graying hair was loose from its bun and the bitter wind whipped it wildly around her red-rimmed eyes. She seemed to wail endlessly—often interrupting the good high priest presiding over the funeral. Her nephew put a consoling hand on her shoulder that she ignored and more wails tore from her throat._

_She had lost her husband and now it was her dear son she was burying—or rather __**not**__ burying. There was no body—because it was said that the dragon had ripped her son's body to pieces. It was told to be a fierce creature that had a hide of golden scales, and when the lad stood against it, it swiped him clear out of existence by talon alone. He had been such a good son, brave, honest, and always seeking the truth. How could he be gone—dead?. There was only a grave marker, carved of fine quartz stone that read his name for him to be remembered by. _

_ "We grieve for the youth that has been lost—but be reminded that he died in the most heroic of ways—trying to save a young woman from the clutches of a monster…" the high priest of Wendbury spoke with true grimness—for if the lad had been alive one more day the priest would have overseen his wedding. The noted lady's teary eyes narrowed at the priest's words_

_ "__**She**__ was the monster!" she choked out between sobs._

_ The group of mourners made small gasps or head shakes of sympathy at the aging woman's outcry. She was in pain, and the pain was so hurtful within her that it caused her to say things that she didn't mean._

_ "That __**siren**__ is the reason he is dead—the reason they are __**both**__ dead." The girl she spoke of only had tiny bits of her dress found shredded in the forest for them to know of her demise by the golden beast. _

_The lady sucked in a determined, certain breath, "If he hadn't gone out there—followed her—lure…then…then he would still be alive!" she wailed and seemed to collapse on her last word. Her nephew, who was less sullen than his aunt by far, caught her and held her tight as her tears soaked into the arm of his shirt. He dabbed at his aunt's cheeks with the end of his cloak, shushing her gently. The lady was always one to make a scene when angry or sad. This time though, she thought she was quite reserved considering what had happened. _

_All she ever wanted was for her dear son to get married, and live a happy life—not to be the unfortunate victim of a dragon or the strange girl with green eyes that he had perished trying to save. _


	2. Returning Home

A/N – Hello again. I just wanted to disclaim that the names and characters that will appear in this story and that are also found in Vivian Vande Velde's '_Dragon's Bait_' are hers, not mine.

*I would also like to disclaim that if you are familiar with my previous stories in this fandom that this fiction is set in a completely different reality from what I had created there—so please go into this story with a clear mind beginning from the actual end of Velde's book. I promise it will be epic ;)

* * *

Sometimes, on warm spring nights young Jaythen would sneak out of his bedroom, and climb the tall, old oak tree at the top of the hill to sit there and watch the stars. If it was a clear night, they shone brilliantly. He enjoyed the twinkling celestial elements but the real reason he looked to the night sky was to find a falling star. He had seen one when he was even younger and the way it sped across the heavens remained in his memory years long after the occurrence. It was before he knew they were for wishing on, however and he never stopped kicking himself for simply wasting such a good star that he could have wished upon.

Silly girls from court suggested that fallen eyelashes, gold coin tossed into water, catching loose dandelion tufts, and blowing out flames of one's birthday cake also had the same effect but Jaythen never revived that feeling of when he saw the falling star. There seemed to be something so powerful—some magic of great impact just waiting to be released into granting a wish.

Jaythen searched and searched the sky with eyes of placid blue, watching and waiting for his chance to make a wish—as the wish he wanted had been in his mind as soon as his mother told him about falling stars and their powers. Finally, one spring evening, when he was thirteen years old he saw a falling star. It seemed to glide through the dark, illuminating his eyes for only a moment before fading.

_I wish that I could be someone else._

***

Five years afterward, Jaythen was still himself—the eighteen-year-old, sole heir and son of the Count, and never satisfied with his life. He had since renounced to himself the belief that falling stars held any magic whatsoever. He had grown into a young man of stature, who had, what girls—noble and peasant alike—liked to call an 'earnest face' and a 'quizzical brow' with 'the most breathtakingly blue eyes ever seen on a boy'.

Jaythen rode atop his horse, avoiding the stares of the people who passed. He concentrated on the reins in his gloved hands. It was early spring, and the snow had just recently melted off the ground in Wendbury, leaving damp ground and mud. He jerked his gaze upon the towers of the Castle Wendbury, his home that he was returning to after spending a year in the Imperial City—to undergo preparation for when he was to take his father's title—which could take years to inherit. If that wasn't the most boorish and insufferable activity he had ever experienced, there was also a deep dread in the pit of his stomach of his father's words before he had departed.

"_Jaythen, when you return you shall take a bride."_

There was no one female he could fathom spending the rest of his life with. The ones he knew were quite beautiful but horribly annoying or naïve, gossipy, vain—there were none that remotely suited his tastes or caught his attentions for very long—and he had searched. Every young woman he had passed in the while in the Imperial City, he looked for something in their face—a subtle intrigue or brightness but they all seemed so dull. The girls of Wendbury were out of the question—and that's why he dreaded having to see his father again.

Two knights rode before him to escort him to the castle, once in the main terrace he handed his horse to an attendant and took his gloves off looking around at familiar sights. His eyes landed on the oak tree at the top of the hill and wanted to do nothing but climb it, just to revive pleasant memories.

"Jaythen! Jaythen, my darling son I've missed you so!" his mother was one of the first to greet him. The Countess of Wendbury was a woman of class and loved a dramatic entrance. Jaythen often wondered how in the world she tolerated his father. The Count of Wendbury was stern and ambitious, willing to manipulate everything to gain his way.

"Sweet greetings to you madam," he said as she embraced him.

"How was your time in the King's court? I did receive your letters but in my opinion they held far too little detail of how things were for you. Now I may ask you in person and have a fuller explanation."

Jaythen grimaced. He did have a fondness for his mother but would have rather not recounted the details of the last year. He knew better though—she was prying to see if he had found a maiden that suited him in the capital—probably on behalf of his father. He felt his brow furrow. _My own father is too busy to ask me his questions._

They entered the great hall escorted by more of their knights—but once safe inside they dispersed to attend to other duties. The hall was dim compared to the light of outdoors. His mother had looped her arm in his and was striding forward with a definite purpose. He couldn't help but to drag his feet. She noticed his behavior and pressed her lips together with disapproval—after all he had been sent away to return as a man who conveyed every aspect of a gentleman; gallant, strong, diplomatic, polite, and above overall, charming. His boot hit a protruding stone in the floor and he tripped into his mother but caught himself.

"Jaythen!" she scolded.

"I apologize mother, but where are we headed? I just only have arrived and I am quite exhausted…"

"We're going to have a little sit-down my son, there are important matters to discuss," she said but ever so quietly and continued to lead him through the castle. The dread in his stomach only increased at her tone.

He passed an unfamiliar servant lass carrying a pile of laundry through the corridor and couldn't help but to look at her out of habit—then he was sadly reminded that girls of lower social order were also out of the question on his bride-hunt. He had to mentally gag at his own term _bride hunt_. It sounded ungallant—what ever happened to the natural way? Boy meets girl, they fall in love and are together forever? That was at least what he thought from all the storybooks read to him by his nursemaid as a child—at least before he went to the Imperial City. He was by no means a _prince_ but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to rescue a maiden and fall in love with her. He looked at his mother and reconsidered the part about love—because it was apparent his parents did not love each other—respected, tolerated—yes. _Love_—no.

The Countess Wendbury finally halted in the solar, a private sitting room for his family. They were the only two beings there. He had to wonder where his cousin was.

Halden was older than Jaythen by a year and a half—the son of his father's late sister. His Aunt Trefulla had passed away in his fourteenth year and her husband had long since been dead. His family took in her son, his cousin, Halden, for he was family and had no one else. He wondered if the matter at hand required his cousin's presence. His mother looked strained and desolate though, and Jaythen's concern of Halden's whereabouts was forgotten.

"What is the matter, mother?"

"Your father has fallen gravely ill, that is why he did not greet you when you arrived."

Jaythen focused on a painting that was hung behind his mother, to collect his thoughts. The painting was of the city from the front gate view. The Oakwood Inn was one of the first establishments one saw entering the city—it was a large, fine, inn meant for wealthier travelers. Jaythen felt his mother's grip on his arm and he coughed "How long has he been ill?"

"All this last month, we thought we had avoided the winter's coughing sickness but it struck him during its last run. He can barely breathe and has been bedridden nearly the entire time. The physicians can do no more. He will die, Jaythen. He will die very soon and you will have to take his place."

Jaythen's form went rigid—the realization of responsibility surprising but nonetheless unpleasant. His mother touched his arm again to encourage him to say something.

"Let me see him," he let out a breath, although he was never one to request to see his father. It always seemed the other way around. His mother lowered her head in acquiescence and motioned toward the adjoining room, which was the Lord's chamber. He took another deep breath when his hand landed on the bronze door handle, he needed courage to face his father even though the man was frail he would still be fierce.

He opened the door and saw his father bundled into the many blankets, propped up against the carved wooden headboard.

"Jaythen," the Count was barely audible. Jaythen bowed low in courtesy and then took a knee at the bed's edge.

"They tell me you are ill."

"As you can see, I _am_," even in near death his father had a bite to his tone.

"I am sorry for your discomfort," Jaythen said, really meaning it.

"Nonsense. You gain five bushels of grain upon my death, which is more than the average simpleton."

Jaythen's eyes were suddenly wide with shock, but only for a second because his father's stone face broke into a snarling laugh, which in turn became raspy coughing. "I jest boy. Of course you will inherit my title, land, and assets, as you've known since you were a child.

"Oh—," The younger man sighed—for in that second of jest he had wonderfully thought he was free of his responsibility, never mind the loss of wealth, he wouldn't have to be himself just like had wished five years ago. His father was still cruel, taunting the boy with his rare, unknowing humor.

"Have you found lass to share it all with yet?"

Jaythen was looking at the silken sheets hanging beneath the blankets but his gaze jerked to meet his father's. "No."

He was met with a glare, "You _must_ find a bride! You must hurry. I want to see my son marry—to know our bloodline is secure—to see you happy." His father shouted at his full capacity, which left him breathing heavily.

"Happy?" Jaythen returned his father's glare almost perfectly. His dark brows knotted with scorn. "You and mother neither seem happy with your marriage—how will mine be any different?"

His father's scowl was fixed, but finally softened, "Son, I was in your exact position many years ago. The difference is though, that I refused to find a bride so I was assigned one. I'm letting you have your choice of lady and if you find her you will be happy. If you do not, then you will wed a girl you do not know, nor love. You will spite her because of being forced to be together. I'm asking you to find a bride, Jaythen, to benefit _your _happiness."

Jaythen didn't know what to say at his father's admission. His father did seem to care about him to be so adamant on him finding a girl. For the first time in his life he felt a softening toward his father, which was a shame since the man had little time to live.

He laid his hand over his fathers and managed to smile in reassurance that he would do his best to find such a girl.

"Now leave me," the order came in a horrid cough.

"As you wish, my Lord."

His mother was watching from the threshold with tears in her eyes. He suddenly felt bad for her—to hear that her husband did not love her and felt spite from their forced marriage.

He gave her a hug, "He didn't mean it."

She sniffed into the collar of his vest, while shaking her head—"He does mean so. We were never supposed to be to together."

He moved out of the threshold while still embracing his mother. She was shorter than him by a foot or two. He laid his chin on her head.

She pulled away and brushed her skirts, "I suppose the good of our union is you, my dearest son." She grabbed his chin and studied his face with a sweet smile. "Now, as for your search for a lady—I have taken the initiative and have invited a few of the noble girls of our city to your return celebration this night."

Before Jaythen could roll his eyes at the thought, his mother jerked his chin down so their gazes were level, "No complaints, you haven't seen them for a year and they _could_ strike your fancy."

"Why don't you try finding _Halden_ a wife?" He groaned.

His mother laughed heartily, "It's a challenge to keep him _away_ from all the young ladies of our court." Then she became more serious, "Vitoria has been asking about you for months, and she has grown into such a pretty thing too! Please son, try to enjoy their company. You are young, be frivolous!"

With that statement, she let him go and strode off to oversee how preparations were developing for the food and music. e _At least she can happy within this sour family._


	3. The Wine Flows Like Water

He went to his bedroom then, all his belongings were already unpacked by the servants. His formal attire was laid out for him on his bed. He removed his vest and pulled off the tunic he had been riding in all day. His riding boots were the biggest relief to take off; the heavy leather material had weighed down his legs the whole journey home.

He stood in the middle of his room wearing nothing but a pair of breeches, and stretched out his shoulders and arms since they had been cramped from riding on top of a horse all day.

_Yes, I should be frivolous. Being frivolous means that I don't have to be serious about any of the girls I meet tonight._ He let his long body fall across the length of his bed. He breathed in the clean scent of the quilts and took comfort in knowing it was _his_ bed that he would soon be sleeping in again. He heard a hard knocking on his door and bolted upright, throwing on his doublet but not buttoning it, "Who is it?"

Whoever they were, did not answer but threw open the door. Halden strode in all smiles and embraced his younger cousin heartily. "Cousin! You're home!"

Jaythen laughed, "And where have you been all afternoon?"

I was out in hunting in the great forest. I took a few men for a hunting party. We shot a dozen pheasants and a buck—all to be prepared for your dinner party tonight."

"You are most generous," Jaythen pinched Halden's cheek. Halden returned the gesture but with harder pressure. Jaythen shoved him away and laughed—realizing that's what he lacked in his time away—_a true friend_.

"You're hair has grown longer," Halden noted, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"It was winter, and I could have used all the extra hair. I'm quite jealous of your ability to grow a full beard in two weeks time."

"You have stubble there," Halden pointed to the thin dark hairs on Jaythen's chin but slapped his cheek because Jaythen's guard was down. He lunged forward to get his cousin back for the playful slap but Halden was already up and on the other side of the room. Jaythen fell on the bed and laid there, he sighed, "Yes, but I haven't properly shaved all year."

That got them both to laughing loudly.

"How was it in the Imperial City? Did you meet any noteworthy lasses?" Halden asked with a devilish raise of his brows.

Jaythen's smile faded and he brushed a dark lock of hair from his eyes, "None."

"_None?_"

Jaythen shook his head, "I'm not like you. I don't fancy every brainless chickadee that comes clucking my way."

"You're a snob. You'll never find a wife with that attitude."

"And you'll_ never _find a proper wife with yours!" Jaythen teased and just missed Halden trying to hit him. Halden took in a breath of smile and let it out with laughter but then straightened up, suddenly serious. "Yes, that may be, but I'm not required to find a wife and _you_ are."

He then took his leave but not without Jaythen giving him a kick to the ankles, "You're such a mood downer."

He dressed in his formal attire, slipping on a clean tunic under his doublet and belting it up. He fingered his stubbly chin as he regarded himself in the mirror. _I'm not a snob,_ he thought. _At least not as badly as those pompous lard bags I had to see everyday at the King's court. _

He called for the castle barber to give him a proper shave and haircut before he had to present himself to that night's festivities. He secretly was disheartened to see his facial hair—as miniscule as it was—to leave him. It would take awhile to grow back. The barber shortened his dark locks from the current length at his neck to reach the end of his jaw. He tipped the man a few gold coins and thanked him.

He walked the corridors of the castle and entered the great hall. Guests for the celebration were just arriving. Ladies in fine gowns that showed off their figures seemed to populate the room in ever increasing amounts. _Devlin, the dressmaker must be fairly wealthy from the event alone, _he mused.

A lad named Warwick joined Jaythen then and handed him a flask of wine, "Lovely aren't they my Lord?"

"As lovely as can be. How have you been Warwick?"

"As lovely as can be."

Jaythen's mouth twisted in a slight grin before he took a swig of the wine. It was sweet with a hint of bitterness—he couldn't help but to feel the party was likewise. Warwick was the son of his father's valet, and in turn Warwick was supposed to be Jaythen's valet but Jaythen hardly ever required one so Warwick was free to go about his own business—but now they were in public and so it would seem odd if Warwick did not offer any help with introductions or wine-bringing.

"Who do you desire to meet?"

"I desire to meet a lass that intrigues me. Find me she that can do that."

Now Warwick took a swig of his wine, "I shall try."

Jaythen had hoped his order would leave Warwick searching for hours but in less than five minutes he had returned with a girl who wore a pretty blue dress.

"My Lord, this is lady Rialla of Wendbury," Warwick let the smiling brunette off his arm and made a slight bow.

"Ah blue. It's my second favorite color," Jaythen motioned to her dress, because he had nothing else to start a conversation with.

She gave him a wide smile, "Mine too!"

"So what is your _favorite_ color?"

Her smile seemed forced suddenly, "Blue."

Jaythen chuckled lightly but then grabbed Warwick by the collar of his shirt and spoke quietly between his teeth, "Please, _get me_ another glass of _wine_. Now."

Rialla did not intrigue him in the least. The next girl, Dencielle, only stared at him and he had to keep a conversation only with the nods and shakes of her head. Warwick was forced to bring him more wine yet. The few other girls who introduced themselves after Dencielle were very dull and only seemed to talk about their dresses, their money, or of him. He decided to try a hand at dancing since that may have lessened the chances of being forced to converse with the girls.

His first partner, a red-head he did not catch the name of, stepped on his foot more than once. He switched to a blonde girl he had the acquaintance of in his youth—Polyanne—who did nothing but compliment him the whole time he danced. He was hungry by that time, also dizzy, and rosy cheeked from all the wine Warwick was bringing to him.

"I see you are doing well with the ladies," Halden approached him while he was trying to consume wine and a deer leg in solitude.

"Ha. HA. _Ha_," Jaythen barked, throwing back another gulp of wine, not even in the mood to smile at such a horrible evening.

"You care too much about how they are. All females are the same one way or the other. Why does it matter?"

"Because if I am to pick one of them to be my bride, I have to live with them _forever_. I can't stand to be around any of those maidens for more than ten minutes let alone my entire life. I wish they could be more like…" Jaythen stopped, all his saliva drying in his mouth. He had broken his promise to himself to not think about her.

"Like who?" Halden wondered and saw the pale color in his cousin's face.

Jaythen sighed and rubbed his temple, trying to rid his mind of her face, "It's nothing. Leave me be."

Halden rolled his eyes and left his sour cousin.

_Nicolette._ The name he had tried to forget was but a whisper of temptation lingering on his thoughts. _Nicolette, of whom you can never be with. _ He shook his head, in the hopes the action would shake away the thoughts of her. The thoughts of how she had made him laugh, how her lips smiled, how her kisses sent shivers of delight through his body. He had met her during his stay at the King's court. She was the only girl he could have ever loved, but she was promised to another man. Even if she were not, he was still considered too lowly for her—the _princess_ of their realm. Jaythen finished eating, discarded his thoughts, and sort of stumbled back to the place he was before.

"More wine my Lord?" Warwick was by his side holding another flask.

Jaythen made an incoherent sound and swiped it away, pitching it back into his throat as of it were common ale at the tavern.

"My Lord?" it was not Warwick's voice, but a smooth and light tone that made his ears perk and find its owner. The lady stood before him in a curtsy, and the low-cut fashion of her lavender gown forced his eyes to notice.

She stood and he returned a shallow bow, "Lady Vitoria, I trust you are enjoying the celebration."

"Hardly," she raised a thin brow.

He frowned, remembering her to be brash but not remembering her to be so pretty. Vitoria was often one of his playmates when he was young, and she always got away with cheating at backgammon. She took his frown as a hint to continue her thought.

"I haven't been enjoying this evening because I haven't yet gotten to dance with _you_."

She then boldly locked her arm through his and pulled him to the middle of the dancing. It was a lively dance that required spinning, twirling, and lifting.

_Oh no_. Jaythen closed his eyes and felt dizzy immediately. When he opened them, Vitoria was staring straight at him.

"You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen!" she shouted over the cheering and music.

He closed them again, taking them away from her praises, and wished for no more. Still she continued to talk, "So you will become count soon—" He was concentrating on his stomach, which was highly objecting to being thrown into such lively movement. She dared pull him closer, so he could feel the heat of her body and then it was too much for him.

"I must go!" he shouted and shoved her away—knowing he would be scolded for such behavior later. He sprinted through the entrance hallway and to the doors that led outside where he let it out, and quite embarrassingly in front of the posted guards. He vomited his food and seven or more glasses of wine into the grass beside the wall.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" the guard closest to him asked with concern.

He seemed to be done, and despised the taste that was left in his mouth—the sting of bitter sweetness. He stood straight and nodded at the guards, "I drank too much wine."

They nodded in return in understanding.

He hated the thought of returning inside only to hear those silly girls giggle and flaunt themselves for him, always complimenting him. It was sickening and he wasn't sure his stomach could handle it. He wrapped his arms around himself and decided to go for a walk. The evening air was nice enough, only a small chill in the wind. He found himself atop the hill near the oak tree he had used to climb. At this rate he would never find a bride before his father died.

Suddenly in an old habit, he looked to the sky for any help—perhaps desperate enough to try wishing on a fallen star again—that is, if he saw one. After a few moments, one shot across the living stars and he closed his eyes immediately. _I wish there was a girl out there for me._

He opened his eyes, waiting for her to just appear into his line of sight, perhaps a maiden he had overlooked. Of course nothing of the sort happened. He was still himself and there never would seem to be a girl he could be satisfied with that was available. He opened his eyes and sighed with the whole of his body.

He returned to the hall but tried to be discreet as possible, feeling horribly for shoving Vitoria, no matter how much of a tart she was being.

She was already dancing with his cousin though, not seeming a bit ruffled. He then realized she might be pretty and somewhat challenging but she only loved how much a man was worth.

"Jaythen!" he saw his mother advancing.

"I do apologize for…"

"Oh shush up, I feel so very lonely with your father bed ridden. Please do your old mother a favor and lend her a dancing partner." His stomach grumbled with warning, but settled at seeing it was a slow paced stepping song. He nodded in acquiescence and led his mother to the floor. It was the kind of dance that required dancers to switch partners every tenth beat—and he inwardly wondered how he remembered such trivial things.

"Please refrain from pushing me out of your way this time," he heard a teasing whisper. He had failed to notice he had switched to Vitoria and he saw his mother and cousin were now partners.

"I do apologize for…"

"Oh shush up, I would have rather you let your sick outside than on my dress."

He closed his mouth and waited out the next seven beats of music in silence until he was returned to his mother. He could see why his mother approved of Vitoria—they were nearly the same lady with thirty years difference.

After entertaining a couple more ladies of their court and refusing any more wine flasks Warwick brought him, he was glad to see the celebration was over.

"There, that wasn't so bad!" he felt a hard slap to his back.

Jaythen held his palm to his ear at Halden's loud shout, "It was terrible. I found no one of interest and got sick off of the wine."

"I know what will cheer you up."

Halden's arm was now across his cousin's back but it was mostly to support himself as he had much more wine to drink that evening.

"What will cheer me up?"

"We shall go hunting tomorrow."

"That will cheer _you_ up. You know I'm not the best archer, and especially within the woods."

"Just think, though, that _rush_ of killing something—it'll let out your frustrations."

"Or cause me to become even more frustrated due to the fact I _won't be able to kill anything_."

Halden just laughed, "We leave at eight o' clock. Bring Warwick along if it'll make you happy. We'll hunt all day and night if necessary!"

Jaythen rolled his eyes and let his drunken cousin off at his chambers and then made his way to his own. He threw his clothing to the floor and crawled under the quilts finally glad to be asleep—for the dream world seemed more promising than the real one.


	4. The Forest Filled With Fog

The sunlight was just at the right angle to brighten Jaythen's eyelids while they were closed. He saw a dancing shine in the dark behind them, the heat of the light caused his imagination to think he could have been in the center of the sun.

"My Lord, Master Halden has sent me to wake you," Jaythen opened one eye blurrily to find Warwick standing at his bedside.

"How can he be awake? He was nearly passed out when I last saw him," Jaythen groaned.

"How can any of us be awake?" Warwick asked but not seriously. He yawned and sniffed. "I shall be joining your hunting party today, God forbid I should accidentally hit you with your own arrows though."

He saw Warwick to already be dressed in clothes meant for the forest—a thick cloth tunic and vest with a hunting dagger and boots. He had also laid out an outfit for Jaythen to wear, just like he was supposed to—being Jaythen's valet. "Then it's good that I'm not taking them."

He dismissed Warwick and rubbed his face to rid it of the sleep and sun.

He met his family in the informal dining chamber. To his surprise, Halden was chipper, and eager to head off. His mother demanded Jaythen to see the Count before taking off with the hunting party.

He lightly knocked on the door to the Lord's bedchamber, hoping his father was still asleep.

"Enter," his father's voice was weak.

"Father," he bowed at the threshold once the door was open all the way.

"Son, come closer."

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"This godforsaken fever has me sweating all night and all day," the Count coughed. Jaythen took his answer to mean '_not well_.'

"I am going hunting with Halden today…"

"Have you found a bride yet?"

Jaythen frowned, "I only just spoke to you yesterday, there was no time…"

"Excuses! Your mother has informed me that there were many suitable young women at your return celebration last night."

Jaythen pressed his lips together tightly, in order to keep from shouting disrespectfully. _How does he think it is so easy to find one?_

"Are you even _attracted _to women?"

Jaythen balked at his father's audacity to ask such a question.

"Of course I'm attracted to women—but you're asking me to find one as a _bride_. There is a big difference between a lustful tryst and a loving relationship—even _I_ can see that."

"Bah!" His father threw up his hands.

Jaythen turned his back on the Count then, ready to try and kill something to wear off his frustrations.

"If you do not find a lady by this mid-season's eve, I will turn all my wealth over to Halden—I'm sure _he_ would be able to carry this family through successfully."

Jaythen stopped in the threshold, but didn't face what he knew to be his father's glare "Good—I don't _want_ it."

***

"Why so moody, cousin?" Halden asked. He was riding next to Jaythen. His horse was taller so he looked down upon Jaythen. Jaythen liked Halden, and as much as he wished to be someone else—he didn't trust Halden would make an acceptable Count. After all, Halden didn't know anything about the politics and King's laws of holding a Countship. He had learned about it for a full year and knew Halden was ill equipped to take on such a task. He took a look at the sky, which was clouding over the brilliant sunshine of the early morning.

"Those clouds are no help," Jaythen nodded.

"Looks like rain," Warwick noted.

"That will be fantastic! We can track beasts through their prints in the mud!" Halden exclaimed.

_Yes but we will all be wet and ill with fever by the end,_ Jaythen thought cynically, dismounted and retrieved his cloak from the pack on his horse as it was getting chilly again from the overcast.

The rest of the hunting party dismounted their horses and started traveling on foot silently, listening for any rustling noises or animal calls. Jaythen had been hunting when he was younger—about fifteen. He didn't enjoy the thrill of the kill as much as his cousin however.

_The two young lords branched off of their hunting party. Halden had been a stocky young fellow while Jaythen was thin and lean. Halden carried a hunting bow and Jaythen carried the quiver of arrows. The darting direction of Halden's eyes silently alerted his younger cousin that he had spotted his prey. Jaythen spotted the doe in the small clearing, nibbling on patches of grass—not knowing of their presence, their scents upwind. _

_Halden motioned with his hand for an arrow and Jaythen obliged. He watched closely as his cousin knocked the arrow above his knuckle and drew back the string. It was fast, the string snapped and the arrow launched through the air—striking the deer in her chest._

"_I got it!" Halden was pleased with himself and hopped over to his trophy kill. Jaythen followed but stared at the deer—it was still breathing—alive. From the entry point, the doe's blood trickled down her chest, muddling the white fur._

"_She's still alive—" Jaythen bit his lip, feeling bad for the poor animal._

_Halden grabbed another arrow, "Not for long."_

_Before Jaythen had time to look away, Halden had plunged another arrow into the doe's neck, and it must have been a vein for her blood was sent splattering across their tunics. She didn't move any longer, finally still—and the blank look of her black, beady eyes was haunting._

Jaythen had decided to hunt with a large dagger, as he could throw it—spinning through the air—and hit his target or at least wound it significantly. He had before successfully killed rabbits in that manner—but they were only the pesky ones that upturned vegetables in the courtyard garden.A fog was settling upon them quickly, making it harder to see far in front of them. Along with the clouds and approaching fog, it started to mist. It was wet and clung to their clothes, hair, and skin.

The woods that surrounded Wendbury were vast; the _Great Forest_ is what people called it. The trees were so tall that it seemed like permanent dusk beneath their leaves—even when the sun was high. Fortunately it was early spring and the leaves were not yet grown to their full volume.

The melting of the snow, and added moisture from the misting, caused the ground to be quite muddy but he had on thick leather boots that went up to his knee and wasn't worried about getting stuck. The forest was high traffic for creatures in the spring and that was good for his eager cousin. He took a breath and smiled at the simplicity that a forest seemed to have at first glance but the complexity within it. They heard a noise all of a sudden—it was loud and echoed through them.

Jaythen looked at Halden alarmed—"What on earth was that?"

"Shh!" Halden replied. He looked upwards, listening for any more noises.

After a few moments Halden's body lost its tension and he stood upright calmly, "We've heard it before in days past while hunting. I don't know what it is. It was the call of a very large beast though—one I've never heard before."

Jaythen was surprised to see Halden shaken—even if it was slight. Halden often went hunting and knew what beasts had which cry, and for him to admit that he still couldn't track it was impressive. That noise though, sounded angry and not like any regular call of any regular beast.

"So what are we to do?" he wondered.

Halden smiled, "We find it and we kill it."

***

It was many hours later and Jaythen was sitting against a tree trunk, at a loss. The fog around him was thick, and he could not see more than three or four feet in front of him, no less any member of his hunting party—which he had gotten separated from. The mist had started into a light sprinkling of rain, which only furthered his growing worry. It would soon be dark, and he would be stranded in the Great Forest wet and without food. He sighed, accepting the truth of his situation. _I am lost._

It was all Halden's fault though. They had heard the thunder of what was the unidentified beast's call again and Halden had taken off in a sprint with the rest of the party members following. Jaythen had taken that moment to relieve himself by the nearest tree and when he called out to find them no one answered—leaving him by himself. He didn't know the way back to the castle for he wasn't as familiar with the forest as Halden. He sighed again and stood figuring it would be better to at least try and find his way back. Unless, he traveled farther away, which was also a valid worry in the back of his mind. The silence of the forest was eerie, yet almost tranquil with the small raindrops hitting blooming leaves. The eeriness came especially with the gray fog engulfing him. Sometimes he heard a bird's call and he couldn't help but to jump when he heard a rodent scuffle between bushes near him and he always had his dagger in front of him in case he were to be attacked. He found a small creek and followed its edge in hopes it would lead out of the forest. He was getting very hungry, and the tightening in his stomach was uncomfortable. They would have to find him, they couldn't go back to the castle without him—what would his mother do?

His mind began to wander since he was alone with his imagination and there was no one to interrupt him.

"_You're the son of Count Wendbury," a girl slid next to him at the table where he was seated._

_He was only slightly startled by her. She was smiling at him—very sure that he was the one to be smiling about._

"_Yes."_

"_I want to dance with you," she stated and grabbed his hand nearly pulling him off the bench. He was watching the nightly court festivities, not participating as he had only been in the Imperial City for a week and knew no one he could dance with._

_She took him to the middle of the floor and began the steps to a lively dance, holding his hands and twisting around him and underneath his arms. It was a dance too lively for conversation but he spent the whole time studying her. She laughed and every so often flashed him a look of daring. He held her waist, lifted her, and set her down on the other side, while her arms were wrapped around his neck._

_Her dress was made of fine red velvet and she was the only lady at the festivities wearing red. She knew how to stand out—and obviously knew what she wanted. She skipped to the left and right, one of her hands on her hips while he held her other hand to balance her._

_The end of the dance was nearing, and by then he found himself intrigued with the lass._

"_What is your name?"_

"_Meet me behind the garden orchard at midnight and I'll tell you."_

Before he could finish the thought of his memory, he was interrupted.

There was, for certain, an animal—a large one—nearby. The shifting noises gave it away. It was brushing against the leaves, and must have not picked up his scent. The shape was hard to determine for his view was obscured by a mass of tall, unwieldy elderberry brush. He took a deep, definite breath—he would kill that creature. He stepped through a brush of elderberry with his dagger drawn. Two things happened very quickly; he was pushed backwards into the stem of a tree and held there, and he brought his dagger up, blinded with the need to protect himself. There was nothing more though—no fighting, struggle, or pain—but just the feeling of being restrained, and a body of some sort pressed against his—keeping him pinned as such. His eyes cleared and found that he was staring into a pair just as surprised if not wider.

"Are you going to kill me, then?" She asked after a moment, her voice was near wavering. He could tell she was suspicious, unsure about his intentions.

He blinked, twice even—before he realized she was real. The edge of the dagger was touching the soft skin right under her jaw. An upward thrust of force would have easily killed her—he was overcome with relief he hadn't murdered her, and that she wasn't a vicious animal of the woods. He lowered his dagger apprehensively—not knowing how to begin what to say.

She was just as apprehensive, but slowly released her hold of his wrist. Her hand immediately rose to her neck, brushing upwards toward her chin to make sure he hadn't drawn any blood.

Her hands lowered to her hips, his eyes followed and a deep blush crept into his cheeks as he suddenly—finally—noticed that she wore no clothes. He averted his eyes immediately, "Pardon me."

She bit the inside of her cheek and a burning annoyance was set clearly in her eyes, "How can I pardon you? You've threatened my life and have shamed my modesty."

He involuntarily felt his eyes start to wander as she spoke—the girl had to have been no older than seventeen, with extremely long locks of dark golden hair that fell in length to her thighs—such a perfect body Jaythen had only seen in fine works of art. He did spot a thin, silver chain around her neck with a jewel embedded in an amulet that set just above her breasts.

"So very ungallant you are Sir," She crossed her arms over her chest and his eyes were back to focus on her face at once. He coughed with embarrassment before noticing how beautiful those eyes of hers were—like shining emeralds coveted by the royals.

"I apologize, miss. I was tracking animals with my hunting party but have gotten separated from them—I thought that you may have been an animal. I didn't expect to find…" he trailed off as she turned her back on him and he examined her fine shape from her shoulder blades to her lower hips. He shook his head and reminded himself he was being uncouth staring at her so. She had grabbed a pair of undergarments—an underskirt and bodice that were hanging on a low tree branch. She must have been washing them—not that they were dry because it was still sprinkling. He coughed and turned around as to stop staring at her.

She was humming an unfamiliar tune as she dressed. It all seemed so out of place to him—a girl in the woods, all by herself—_naked_.

"So you are lost?" She inquired. He turned to face her again—studying her calm expression and couldn't help but to notice the way the white garments clung damply to her body.

"I—have gotten a little off direction, yes."

She shrugged and brushed past him, nearly disappearing into the fog. He lunged forward in order not to lose her. Her figure moved steadily away but his hand landed on her shoulder, and she tensed.

"What about you? Are you lost as well? Do you require rescuing?"

She turned to face him and he saw she was biting her lip to keep from outwardly laughing. Her bottom lip was plush under her teeth. The corners of her mouth twitched upward.

"I don't believe so. Do _you_ require rescuing?"

"Don't be ridiculous—I am a man."

"Then I trust you to find your way. Good day."

"Wait!" he stopped her from going further. She sighed with exasperation and impatiently waited for him to finish his thought. He was going to ask her who she was but noticed the rocks near to them had deep gash marks in their surface—something like he never seen or heard of before. Not only were there gashes but also there were dark burn marks of char also apparent.

She noticed where he was looking and quickly began to walk away.

His attention was back on her in an instant, "No, sorry—I was going to ask you if you had any food since I may not be able to reach my hunting party anytime soon." She kept walking though, "I can repay you."

She was barely visible through the fog but slowed and eventually turned to face him, "Why can't you just admit that you are lost?"

"I'm not lo—" he began to deny but her eyes narrowed, telling him that she was aware of the truth. "How can you be for certain?"

"Because you have the look about you—so very unsure and lonely."

He caught up to her so that he was by her side, "How would you know _that_?"

She glanced at him, and he caught her own description of the emotion flicker through her eyes before she looked away. "Follow me. I know where there is food."

They ended up in a clearing where a fire was barely burning, dug into the ground and had been started on drier tinder. He could smell something delicious. The fire was small, trying to keep its life despite the wetness around them.

He saw pieces of deer leg roasting on top of a makeshift spit. She pulled the meat away from the fire, and pulled the stick out of it and breathed out in tiny gasps while rolling the meat from hand to hand for it was hot.

He intervened, seeing she was in danger of burning her fingers, "Here, let me." He had gloves on, and the deer meat was warm but not scalding in his hands. She gave him a look that he couldn't decipher. He blew on the steaming piece of meat and in a few moments it was rendered cool enough to consume. He handed the piece to her out of courtesy, but she shoved his hand away, "_You're_ the one who is hungry and asked for food."

He felt like a fool and bit into the meat, trying not to notice the way she sat there and studied him. The way her head was cocked to the side, caused her long hair to fall around her shoulder, her brows fixed in a curious manner—like she had never been so close to a man before.

He swallowed a lump of meat and met her gaze, "What is a girl like you doing out in the forest all alone?"

She looked taken aback, her cheeks reddened and her gaze suddenly fierce, "It is not your concern, Sir Hunter."

He held up his hands, and couldn't help but to smirk at her sudden title for him, "Forgive me, I was merely wondering out loud."

He had eaten until full, not knowing when he would be able to find food again. She had only picked at a small portion of deer meat—hardly finishing it before she threw it to the woods where some other animal would have gladly consumed it.

The dark was now surrounding them, and the fog was long from lifting. Coldness was setting in.

"Where do you live?"

The girl with green eyes looked up from what she was focusing on—something within the woods—and frowned at his interruption.

"Where ever I want."

"Do you not have a family?"

She only stared at him, seeming to not comprehend his question—her focus elsewhere.

"Do you not have a home?"

"Shh!"

A growl sounded behind them and he whirled around to see a wolf lunge at him. Its big furry body knocked him over, jumped atop him and opened its mouth wide enough he could make out its sharp teeth. With another growl, its head lunged forward, snapping and biting. He shouted and tried grabbing its muzzle and wrestling it off. He reached for the dagger sheathed at his waist and in that moment, the wolf sank its teeth into his shoulder. He felt it tear his flesh and muscle viciously and he cried out with pain.

The girl with green eyes foolishly rushed at the wolf from above him. The wolf lifted its bloody muzzle with a growl, considered her, and in the next instant leapt away, fleeing into the woods with whimpering howls.

He turned his eyes upward to her with a questioning stare. She ignored it. Instead she looked at his wound and sighed—seeming to think that he had been too much trouble already. She grabbed the end of her underskirt and ripped it across so there was a long strip of frayed fabric. She approached him and knelt by his side, carefully wrapping the material around his wound. He sucked in a breath and winced at any pressure laid upon it.

"You need to go back to your home if you want that properly healed, I do not have the skill to deal with such injuries."

"Eh…well the problem with that is that I don't know how to get home."

She pressed her lips together, annoyed, even though she knew he had been lost from the first sight of him. "If you don't know your own way home, then how shall I?"

"I live in Wendbury,"

"_I've_ never been to Wendbury."

"You seem to know your way around," he smiled maybe in an attempt to convince her to help him, but winced at the pain in his arm a second after and held it, acquiring blood on his fingers, through the fabric even.

She frowned once more, "If we leave right now, you can be there by sunrise."

She pulled him up roughly, making him grunt in pain, and he knew she had done it on purpose. "This way."

The darkness and the fog worked against them on their travel. She would disappear into the fog often and when he was just worried enough to call for her—she would appear next to him. She seemed pleased that he was so dependent on her or amused at it at least. He felt a little ashamed at asking so much of her but was thankful she had helped him. What had he done for her? _I almost killed her_.

"I owe you very much," he said.

"For what?"

He raised his brows, not knowing if she were jesting. How could she think he did not owe her anything?

"Well you've fed me, and now you're leading me back to my home, not to mention somehow frightened the wolf away. I daresay I owe you my life."

She stopped walking and he stumbled into her, "That's too great of a thing to _owe_ somebody. I think, Sir Hunter, that if you are to owe me anything, it is a great thanks."

"Can you at least give me your name so I may thank you?"

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but after a moment must have decided he was of no harm to her. "Avalyn. My name is Avalyn."

He took in the sight of her with the sound of her name, and nodded, "Thank you, Miss Avalyn. I am Jaythen."

"That is a much better name than Sir Hunter."

* * *

A/N: Whew! I uploaded the 1st four chapters consecutively, hoping that your intrigue has been piqued, and for you to take in everything. I do promise this has a big something to do with the original book if you're feeling puzzled.


	5. Creating a Dangerous Charade

He was starting to become drowsy, after all, he had woken early and had been awake all day and now into the evening, or perhaps it was early morning—time didn't feel real anymore while he followed the girl with green eyes. Still, he managed to tag along behind her through the forest, through the darkness, cold, fog, and what had been light rain turned back to a thin wet mist. She seemed not deterred but adamant in each of her steps.

"So may I ask where your family is?"

"I know not where they are," her answer was void of any emotion.

"How can that be?"

"I was raised by farmers, but I was not their true child. I left them for they only used me for chores and cared not to show me the love they had for their other children."

He was taken aback by her honesty. He was saddened at her answer as well. How could they not adore a child so pretty and helpful?

"Do you have any idea who your real—"

"I wish not to talk about it further. It angers me, and I'm very unpleasant when I am angry," She cut him off and he heeded her serious tone. He continued to follow her in silence, holding his pained shoulder.

There seemed to be light trickling through the trees slowly, an approaching dawn. The dull light caught upon her hair and a golden glow seemed to wrap around her. It wasn't that he was enamored of her—how could he be so quickly? Still, he found her fascinating to be around and realized even though it was the night he almost could have died, he had felt at ease around her—she had saved him, this mysterious lass of the wood.

"Do you want to know anything about me?" he offered, ready to give answers away.

"Why do you look so unsure of yourself?"

"What?"

"Why do you look so—"

"No, I heard you," he changed his stance to try and convey some confidence—that he was sure of himself but even he was unsure of how to do that. Halden was much better at it.

She considered him and shook her head, seeming to know his pitiable struggle.

"I don't want to be who I am," he said softly—she was the first person he had ever told out loud.

Her eyes suddenly widened with a sort of recognition and she stepped up to him, so near that he had to step away and look down upon her.

"Neither do I."

They stared at each other for a moment. A rooster's call broke their concentration and he sucked in a breath of relief, knowing it was the sound of civilization. Not far away was his city. She was still staring at him, perhaps trying to read him and uncover who he truly wanted to be. He could only guess at who she would rather be. She was slightly dirty from the forest, and clothed in mere rags.

"I can help you. Let me help you."

She raised her eyebrows with doubt, "How?"

He grabbed her hand and started ahead at a faster pace, feeling refreshed at the thought that he _could_ very well repay her for her help.

He began to see clearer as the forest dwindled—the fog was thinner as daylight grew and he made out roofs of buildings behind a large stone wall. Wendbury. He was finally home. She grew nervous and tried hiding behind him as they neared the gates to the city. The guards that were posted approached him with worried faces.

"My Lord! You're alive!"

"Aye," Jaythen nodded as they opened the gates for him. He held firmly to Avalyn's wrist but noticed the frantic darting of her gaze every which way. No one was out so early in the dawn, the streets were quiet. _She has nothing to fear, she will be rewarded soon._

Upon his entrance to the castle, his mother and cousin were called for.

"Grace upon the Savior, you are alive!" His mother cried and threw up her arms before running to him and embracing him. She was crying and babbling about having prayed all night for him to return safely. She then saw the state of his shoulder and had the physician called for.

"I do apologize for losing you, cousin. It wasn't until we were too far gone that we realized you were not with us, and when we went back, you had vanished," Halden also embraced him, although Jaythen was still slightly annoyed that Halden thought finding the unidentified creature was more pressing than finding his lost cousin.

"Go up to see your father now. He was worried to death, and it was a miracle he didn't die at the terrible news you were lost in—who is _this_?"

His mother was crying no more and suddenly staring—finally noticing the girl her son was holding hands with. She was a pretty thing with wide green eyes and rags for a garment.

"Mother. This is Lady Avalyn of Prition," he lied and named a city on the other side of the Imperial City. "She had befallen ill fates on the road toward St. Toby's and had to look to the forest for safety—where I found her. If my madam approves, I have invited her to stay at our court.

Both his mother's and Avalyn's faces went pale—but for entirely different reasons. His mother looked to her, searching for something and seemed to find it when her eyes landed on the jeweled amulet around her neck.

"She may. After all, she has been through an ordeal," his mother nodded stiffly, clapped her hands and barked out orders for chamber maids to take Avalyn to bath and to see her to a spare bedchamber for sleeping.

The physician ushered Jaythen away into the solar where he untied the soggy piece of underskirt around Jaythen's shoulder and called for clean warm water, thread, and needle.

"It doesn't need sewn does it?" Jaythen groaned and laid back into the setting chair.

"Just a few stitches, it will be quick. What happened to you lad?" the old man soaked a cloth in the water and dabbed the dried blood away. A fresh seam of blood had been seeping out of the wound, although slowly.

"I was attacked by a wolf whilst in the forest."

The physician grumbled sympathetically and closed one eye to see where to thread the needle. Jaythen gritted his teeth as the needle pierced the top layer of his flesh and then across the rift, and back. It was over quickly as the physician had stated. Jaythen looked to his shoulder but only a bit of where the wound was sewed up was in his line of view, as his neck couldn't bend any further.

He called upon Warwick to draw up a bath, as he was dirty from being outside all day and night. Warwick's least favorite duty was drawing a bath, for it required to haul buckets of water and handle scalding hot stones from the fireplace. Jaythen knew this but was secretly punishing his servant for letting Halden leave him alone in the woods. Sometimes he knew he was too lenient with the lad. While he waited, he removed his dirty clothes and brushed his fingers through his hair with an exhausted sigh. The wound in his shoulder still smarted terribly. He also thought of the girl with green eyes, and wondered if by lying for Avalyn—giving her a noble's credence—that she would now be happier, being someone else.

"My Lord, your bath is ready," Warwick stood at his doorway and bowed stiffly—a subtle hint of his annoyance.

Jaythen nodded and went to the adjoining room in which his bath resided. The water was hot with heated rocks and felt good to him. He sat there relaxed for a moment before his mind returned that memory he never finished from the afternoon before.

_He was wrapped in his cloak, his heavy, nervous breath hitting the air in clouds of vapor. It was a bitter February evening but she had told him to meet her behind the garden orchard. All the plants and flowers were dead, causing his surroundings to be quite depressing._

_ He waited and shivered beneath his clothes, thinking, 'Why am I doing this? Do I want to know her name that badly?'_

_ He was about to turn and return to his chambers, giving up on meeting with her—she had probably told him to meet her there and not have shown just for her own amusement—but she was there when he turned._

_ "You," he stated with surprise._

_ "Yes, did you think I would not come?"_

_ He shrugged. She pulled the hood of her cloak down so he could see her whole face. She was very lovely, with shiny auburn hair and a dimpled smile. "So, were you going to tell me your name?"_

_ She nodded, "I don't know your name though, only that you are the son of a count."_

_ "My name is Jaythen."_

_ "Jaythen," she seemed to taste his name on her tongue then she snuggled up against his torso and stood on her toes so her lips were near his ear, and when she spoke, the heat of her breath soothed him, "I'm Nicolette."_

The water had become tepid, he dunked his head into the water before getting out of the bath, trying to cleanse his mind of that memory—for it only brought him a longing he could never satisfy. Once he was dry and clothed, he obeyed his mother's request and visited his father's chambers. The man looked like he was clinging to the last threads of life.

"Father?"

"Son, I'm happy to hear that you are safe. They've told me you were lost in the Great Forest."

"I was, but I found my way home—"

"I do apologize for thrusting the responsibility of finding a bride upon you. You must understand that I will die soon—and I need to see that all my work wasn't for nothing. You are eighteen, and have had your freedom."

"What are you saying father?"

"I have had a lady secured for you, she is beautiful, wealthy, and has taken an interest in you—"

"No!" his mind was thrown into a panic.

"Jaythen! Be reasonable."

"No, I have already chosen a bride," the panic had caused him to say the most ludicrous of things.

His father sucked in a rapid breath, "Since _when_?"

Jaythen took a steady breath before replying, "This morning."

"_Who_?"

Her name is Lady Avalyn of Prition, and she is to be my wife."

The Count scrutinized his son with a hard gaze, but Jaythen gave no indication of happiness or sadness. His heart was racing, hardly believing he had actually said it—that he was so desperate to not be forced into wedlock to lie. He knew he could not take it back. How would _she_ react? The tiniest of voices in his conscious told him she would never accept it, for she had only just met him and so far he had done only one thing in her favor.

"Very well then, I shall inform the former bride's family of your cancellation and you shall undergo preparation for a wedding at once."

He tightened his jaw and his stomach flip-flopped at the idea of being married within the week. "Isn't it enough for you that we're engaged?"

"Not if you say her name with such indifference—you certainly don't love her—which seems so important to you. I do believe you are trying to trick me for I have never heard of such a girl. I demand to see her."

"My Lord, she is exhausted from our journey through the woods, as a matter of fact, so am I. I bid you goodnight—or rather _good morning_." He yawned extra wide to get his point across—and to keep his father from asking further questions. His eyes were getting heavier as he traveled the corridors to his room but he stopped in front of the spare bedchamber Avalyn was to stay in.

Without knocking he grabbed the handle and opened it, planning to warn her of what he had done. It was quiet in the chamber except the soft breaths of a sleeping girl could be heard. He closed the door behind him and carefully approached the bed as if she was a doe in the forest and the slightest sound could awaken her and send her away.

She lay on her back with her arms sprawled across the pillows, her sooty lashes brushing her cheeks, hiding her fabulous eyes. Green was his favorite color—which is why he liked her eyes so much, not just because they were wide and conveyed her emotions so well. _She is to be my wife_ he thought and dared touch a lock of her dark gold-colored hair that was strewn across the pillows as well. _She won't marry you. She barely talks to you, and only regards you with annoyance or suspicion. They will all laugh at you when they find out,_ his bothersome conscious teased. He shook his head, perhaps_ I can convince her to play along, just until he dies—and then she can leave._ He tried to convince himself. It was a funny feeling he had though, knowing that he hardly knew her but deeper down, knew he would be regret it if she were to leave.


	6. Unsavory Receptions

Jaythen felt a hard shove to his wounded shoulder. He sat up in a shout of pain, confused, still lingering on a dream that he had been lost in the Great Forest with a beautiful, intriguing maiden. The assaulter shoved him again. His vision started to clear and his anger was sparked.

"I have a few bones to pick with you," a girl's voice seethed with annoyance. He saw her clearly, and when realizing the wound in his shoulder was not from a lingering dream but reality—all of the day's events crashed down upon his mind in remembrance.

Avalyn stood at the side of his bed with her hand on her hips, she was wearing a simple gown, but it looked worlds better on her than rags.

"What are you doing in my bedchamber?"

"They have no qualms letting their _Lord's fiancée_ into his bedchambers." Her emphasized words were spoken a harsh bite.

He groaned and rubbed an eye to rid it of his tiredness, it must have been approaching dusk for the light was dim in his room. She shook her head and then jumped onto the bed next to him, pushing him down against the mattress and pinning him there by pressing into his wounded shoulder. He moaned at the soreness, but she didn't seem concerned—only disgusted. Her face was inches away and her eyes bore into his, an untamed anger burning in them, "_Why_? Have I not suffered enough by your hands?"

"What are you talking about? I gave you credence of nobility, you may now have the power to do anything, command anyone with authority without question—which is no light matter. You are now able to be _someone else_ entirely."

She shook her head rather ungratefully, "I did not know you were a _noble_ and I did not ask for such privileges. How can you claim we are _betrothed_?"

His heart started to flutter with panic, his inner conscious gloating that it had been right—that she would refuse him.

"I know you have just met me but—they were going to force me to marry a girl that I didn't really know, much less _like_—"

"You do not know _me_ and I doubt you will like me if you do."

"Please Avalyn, just for now pretend it is so. Once my Father dies I won't be under so much pressure. He is unwavering on the subject of me securing a bride."

She bit her lip, crossed her arms, and refused to look at him. A deep frown set in her brow.

"Avalyn?"

She sucked in an angry breath with a hint of despair or disappointment, perhaps both, "You used me."

His heart sank, realizing it was true and becoming disappointed in himself for being so manipulative just as his father, "If you do this favor for me, I promise to give you anything of your desire. I will do anything you ask of me." He hoped that would entice her but she stayed silent and still did not look at him. "Besides where else have you to go?"

She finally turned her head so he glimpsed her profile, "Do you _promise _we won't have to be married?"

He laid his hand across his chest. "I promise I will do everything in my power to stop it from happening."

Avalyn was displeased with the whole situation, and took leave of his room. He noted of the way she carried herself when she was annoyed—confidently—enough not to be suspected of a common birth. He stretched out and fingered the stitches of his wound; it still hurt, especially after what she had done to it. He wondered who had informed Avalyn of their engagement since his father was bed ridden and couldn't be up and about to tell her.

He dressed into fresh clothes and joined his Mother, Halden, and Avalyn at the formal dining table for supper. When guests of court were present, they had to always dine there—and Avalyn was considered a guest of court.

He thought his mother would be overjoyed at the prospect of gaining a daughter-in-law but when he walked into the dining room to join them, he saw his mother only regarded the girl with a cold expression.

"Greetings," he coughed to get their attention.

"Hello darling," his mother smiled warmly—transforming her face into its usual pleasantness. He took a seat at the head of the table since his father wouldn't be joining them. His mother was on his left and Avalyn to his right. Halden sat on the other side of her.

"You surprised everyone with the announcement of your engagement," his mother began a conversation—one he would have rather not have had so soon.

He nodded, "Yes, I should think so."

"But—"

"What's the matter? Don't you believe in _love at first sight_?"

His mother's pleasant face darkened, "You've never have."

"She's right," Halden nodded as he cut into his roasted boar.

Jaythen felt prickled at their attack. Why couldn't they accept it? They had been nagging non-stop for him to find a girl and now that he had, they were just as displeased.

He put down his fork and took a hold of Avalyn's hand. He noticed she had barely touched her food. He interlaced his fingers within hers, nearly forcing them apart, and looked his mother in the eye, "I love her."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. She pulled away quickly with a blush and took a sip of her drink. His mother raised a brow, letting her son know she wasn't convinced.

"Excuse me," Avalyn said softly and removed herself from the table, walking hastily out of the room.

Once they could no longer hear her footsteps his mother spoke with a hard tone, "That girl is very odd, and I'm having trouble believing that you truly love her."

"Why is she odd?"

"She demanded one of the chambermaids to remove the fire-poker from her chambers."

He felt his lips twitch in an amused smile, "She has her quirks, and those are the reasons I love her."

"What about the fact she refused to remove her jewelry for a bath?"

The only Jewelry he knew of Avalyn to own was the silver-chained amulet.

"Mother, she is recovering from being attacked by bandits and she may have a few…discrepancies from the ordeal. She will overcome it though, from what I know she is a strong lass."

His mother nodded, "I do hope so. Vitoria was so hoping to become your wife, and it would be a shame if you married a lady with less class."

Jaythen bit his tongue, wanting to chide his mother for insinuating Avalyn had less class than Vitoria. Vitoria was selfish, and Avalyn had helped him. He wasn't surprised to find that Vitoria had been chosen for him and even less surprised that his mother was sour over the loss of her.

He finished his meal, noticing his cousin as uncharacteristically quiet.

"What say you about my fiancée?"

Halden was just finishing his meal as well, but looked over to his cousin, "I think she's a quaint lass."

"Is that all?"

"Well, she does have an otherworldly beauty no doubt."

Jaythen looked his mother, hoping she at least considered the fact Avalyn was more beautiful than Vitoria—and beauty counted for something in the court. His mother absentmindedly nodded, considering it.

Avalyn had not come back since she had excused herself. Jaythen started to worry maybe she had run away. He was done with dinner entirely and so excused himself. He went to her bedchamber and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He rushed through the rest of the corridor, asking servants if they had seen her. No one had. His heart was tossed into dreaded feeling, beating against his chest. _Where could she be?_

He left the main hall to the outside, and asked the guards if they had spotted her. They would have seen her if he left the castle.

"She informed us she was going on an evening stroll around the castle. I offered to accompany her but she declined. Now that I have you here, might I say congratulations on your engagement to such a fine lady."

"Thank you," Jaythen was curt and quickly headed off in the direction the guard had pointed—the path to the forest. He turned the corner of the castle wall and saw her figure standing by the old oak tree at the top of the hill. He slowed his pace and climbed the hill to her. The sun was setting in the far west, and its last rays of light caught in her hair, causing it to shine like gold.

"I was afraid you had run away."

Her gaze was removed from the sunset and onto him, "I thought about doing it."

He leaned against the tree, noting the rough texture that rubbed through his clothes, and missed that sensation from when he was a child, "You know, I used to climb this tree when I was younger."

She titled her head back to look at the towering branches, trying to imagine him doing it. "Do you not anymore?"

"I haven't had quite the time for such leisurely activities," he smirked but said in tone of disdain. "I would look for falling stars, to wish that I could be someone else."

"Falling stars don't grant your wishes."

"I know that now, for I still am who I am."

"I can understand how you would want to be someone else, your life seems confined and unpleasant, but you must know that it isn't so terrible—you have much more than others."

He didn't know how to respond, but felt a hint of insult at her words, "Your life seems uncomfortable and lonely—I can see why you'd want to be another."

She whirled around with a fierceness in her expression, "I've never claimed to live a charmed life. I manage enough on my own and choose to be alone for my own reasons."

He slid down and perched himself at the base of the oak tree, staring up at her near profile. He noticed that she was fiddling with the jewel attached to her necklace between her fingers, and he had never been close enough to tell what kind of jewel it was but he caught its shine from the setting sun—a brilliant violet.

"So tell me how a poor, orphaned, farm girl comes to own such a piece of jewelry."

She immediately tucked the necklace under the neckline of her dress, "My real mother left it to me, perhaps as an apology for abandonment."

"She must have been wealthy to part with such a gem—I do believe it is an amethyst."

"_Amethyst_, is that what they call it?"

"It's rare—only the likes of royals and high clergy are seen to wear it."

She considered his words but shook her head, "I don't remember, perhaps."

_Why would a wealthy woman abandon her child with a pair of farmers?_ He didn't understand humans and their motives at times.

"We'd better head back, they'll be wondering of our whereabouts," he stood and offered his arm for her to take. She took one last look toward the sun. It was nothing more than a bright sliver on the horizon. She swiftly brushed past him, subtly refusing his arm and going on ahead of him. He felt as though she didn't want anything to with him. _Then why does she stay?_ He certainly was not _forcing_ her to.

She retired to her bedchamber, even though she probably wasn't the least bit tired from sleeping all day. Jaythen wasn't tired either but went to his room despite the fact. He needed to think. Halden was waiting for him to his surprise.

He gave his cousin a questionable look, urging him to reveal the reason to why he was there.

"Do you remember the noise we heard in the forest?"

How could he have forgotten? He recalled how it echoed through him, vibrating off his bones. "Yes."

"Well, we had gone off after it and ran across a small farm on the western edge of the forest, right off the Southern Road. The family there had locked themselves inside their cottage."

"Why?"

"They said a _dragon_ had terrorized them."

Jaythen's eyes widened, "Impossible!"

"They swore up and down it was so. Think of the noise—there is nothing like it—it must have been the dragon's call."

"We would have seen it, they are said to be large creatures." Jaythen brought his fist up under his chin and thought, "There haven't been dragon sightings around this part of the realm in nearly twenty years—at least." He knew of it because when he was younger he recalled overhearing the court elders mumble rumors of a dragon that had terrorized Griswold, a city northwest of Wendbury. Then he remembered the gouges in the rock surrounded by flame licks—only made possible by such a creature. _Could it be that it has returned—the dragon from long ago?_

"Also, the farmers had feared that their daughter was killed by the beast because she had left the day before to chop firewood but never returned."

"That is unfortunate," he replied, not taking in that his cousin was hinting at something.

"Their daughter who is called, _Avalyn_."

Jaythen looked up immediately with frown, realizing his cousin knew that she wasn't a noble. His cousin had meant for Jaythen to be startled that she was deceiving him but by Jaythen's concerned frown he realized that his cousin had known the truth all along.

"You knew, and you _lied_ for her? How could you have done such a dangerous thing?"

"The farmers are not her real parents—she could have been born to anyone, even someone of noble blood. Besides, it doesn't matter now, father is appeased."

"He will certainly not be when the breath of truth reaches his ear," Halden scoffed. Those words sent Jaythen lunging forward and pushing Halden against the wall and forcing him to stay there by his shirt collar. His next words were uttered in the most threatening tone he had ever used, "And by whose breath with my father hear the truth? Certainly not mine. Will it be yours, cousin, or would you have me unhappy the rest of my days?"

Halden wrestled out of Jaythen's grip easily, "I don't understand you. You had your pick of any of the girls at court but the one you do choose comes from nothing and nowhere."

He opened his mouth to declare that he had no serious intentions to marry Avalyn, but stopped and decided it was best to let Halden believe otherwise—for now something dark was dividing them and he questioned the stretch of his trust towards his older cousin. He let out a decisive breath, "She causes the world around me to seem less dull." At least that part was true.

"I will keep your shameful secret for now," Halden straightened his collar and shot Jaythen a sly look. He didn't speak anything more and simply left the room. Jaythen found his heart was beating in alarm—hoping his cousin would keep to his word.

* * *

A/N - I'm kind of disappointed that no one else is reviewing this because I'm so excited to be writing it. Oh well, that's what I get, being spoiled off all the reviews of my other DB stories I guess ;) AiDeeKay, you rock my socks.


	7. A Dance not of Romance

"On behalf of your engagement, the Castle Wendbury shall throw a celebration tomorrow evening," Warwick mentioned as he picked clothes out of Jaythen's wardrobe for the young lord to wear. He must have felt like doing his duty that morning.

Jaythen was sitting on the edge of the bed in a night shirt and breeches, stretching all the sleep out of his muscles. It had been only a week or so since he had brought Avalyn to Castle Wendbury, "What? So soon?"

Warwick shrugged, "It must have been the Count's idea."

Jaythen nodded, knowing his mother seemed to purposely delay preparations for a wedding that his father had been ordering for. His mother was still bitter about her son choosing a girl with less prestige over Vitoria. Vitoria was at least _known_ in many courts while no one had ever heard of Avalyn—and rightly so. She was also taken aback at the news that Avalyn's dowry was stolen while she traveled, since her parents were both deceased and didn't have a hold of it. It mattered not to Jaythen if her dowry was gone, he had enough for the both of them—that is if they really _were_ to be married. Thankfully though, his mother still believed Avalyn to be a noble of Prition.

His valet presented a blue doublet for Jaythen to wear that day—his second favorite color.

"Then I should buy her a gown—she's been wearing nothing but simple, informal dresses since she's been here." _Which doesn't please Mother at all._

"Would you like me to accompany you to market?"

"What better things have you to do?" Jaythen smirked as he slipped off his night shirt and replaced it with the doublet. Warwick only gave a slight, compliant nod of his head.

He passed the chamber Avalyn had been staying in and crunched his fist to knock and bid her a good morning but he stopped short of it. She had barely spoken to him since that first evening. He only heard her talk when she answered inquiries from other people. The questions were simple enough, and the ones that required her to fabricate truths for, she answered quickly and then took leave.

He was often told that she took walks in the evening. At least once, he had tried to join her but she insisted to be left alone. He turned from her door and cared not if Warwick noticed the very unusual state of their relationship—_nonexistent_.

He was glad to get out of the castle, at least for awhile. Being pent up with his mother, who often subtly insulted the green-eyed girl, was a nuisance. Avalyn's silence didn't help matters either, and it made for an unconvincing engagement. At least his father hadn't bothered him, although he was getting worse and worse in his health, and hardly had the strength to.

The citizens of Wendbury were already up and about, going about their morning business. They showed proper respect and greeted him when he passed them, and he would reply with a polite nod. He was going to the dressmaker's to find Avalyn a suitable gown to wear to the engagement celebration.

A young lady was already standing in the front room, being fitted for a new dress by the dressmaker's apprentice. When Jaythen entered, the apprentice glanced up, and dropped his jaw in surprise, losing all the pins that were kept in his teeth as he fitted. The girl, whose back was turned, kicked the apprentice from atop the platform, calling him a 'clumsy fool.'

When she saw he was trying to bow properly because of a customer, she whirled around. Jaythen's skin prickled when he saw her to be Vitoria.

"My _Lord,_" She made a deep curtsy but it was apparent she wasn't pleased to see him either.

Jaythen nodded toward the apprentice, "Is your master in?"

"Just in the back gathering fabric," the boy replied and then set off to fitting Vitoria once more. Warwick wandered off to admire the dresses in the front of the shop that were hanging off dress-forms.

"My Lady," Jaythen made a shallow bow before he continued toward the back to talk to the dressmaker. She huffed and crossed her arms—just as a spoilt child would who had not gotten their way.

The dressmaker was pulling flats of fabric off of the high shelves. Wendbury was noted for housing one of the finest dressmakers in all the realm—the Queen herself owned quite a few. "Master Devlin, I see you are well?"

The middle-aged man looked over his shoulder and spotted Jaythen, "Ah, my Lord—what brings you here this day? A new gown for the Countess? She usually sends one of her ladies to place the order."

"Nay, I require a gown for my fiancée for an engagement celebration tomorrow night."

Devlin raised his eyebrows, "That's right! I must congratulate you and must say you've gotten quite a few citizens up in arms about your announcement. In fact, Lady Vitoria just in the other room was ranting to poor Edwin about it not too long before you arrived."

Jaythen stifled a laugh, "Yes, I suppose she is sour about the news for she had her eye set on me."

"Just as all the other young ladies in my clientele."

He pulled out a flat that had a deep blue, thin, soft-looking fabric wrapped around it, "How about a dress of this? I had Edwin pick it up last week from the port at Tierbo—it's manufactured from across the sea."

Jaythen knew next to nothing about dresses, only that they looked pretty on the female form. "I am comfortable in whatever you decide to make, I just want her to shine."

Devlin winked knowingly, "Yes, I have just the design for her. If you would tell me her size, I'm sure I can have it done by the mid afternoon tomorrow. I shall close shop and have Edwin help me in order to finish in time and then he will deliver it."

"Excellent," Jaythen smiled, described Avalyn's body size, and tossed the man a small but substantial pouch of gold coin for his troubles.

He motioned for Warwick to follow as he crossed the front room to the door.

"Farewell, until the engagement party tomorrow evening," he regarded Vitoria who tensed and glowered, not replying. He knew she was probably invited and if she didn't go would be accused of being sour—which no girl wanted to be the center of court gossip.

The two lads walked through the market on their way back to the castle but Jaythen stopped suddenly, realizing something, and was surprised no one had mentioned anything about it. He was staring through a window at a display of jewelry, and the many silver and gold rings setting on black velvet cushions.

"What's the matter, my Lord?" Warwick inquired, seeing they had stopped.

"I haven't bought her a ring yet."

His eye was on a particular ring, a beautiful pale-colored band with an emerald set at the center. The jewel was an extraordinarily close match to Avalyn's eye color.

Without another thought he entered the shop. The jeweler looked up sharply from examining a precious stone but smiled at the sight of such a wealthy customer. "What can I do for you, my Lord?"

"Tell me about that ring in the window," he demanded. The jeweler removed the velvet cushion and Jaythen pointed to the one.

"The band is carved of white gold from the Evening Isles, and inset is a viridis emerald cut in the mines of the Northern Mountains."

"How much?"

"The going price for such a fine piece of jewelry is 2200 gold coin."

Warwick whistled from behind him, even impressed with the steep price. Jaythen eyed the ring—so wanting to buy it for her—although it was inane to buy such an expensive thing for a girl he hardly knew and one he wasn't going to marry anyway.

"I'll take it, but send the cost to the castle under my name."

The jeweler nodded with a sure smile and placed the ring into a kerchief of semi-heavy fabric, folding it neatly. He handed it to Jaythen who had Warwick put it in his pocket for safekeeping.

Now that they were done shopping, they could return to the castle.

---

_"You're the princess." He replied, not asking for a confirmation from her but confirming it to himself. Everyone knew of her, and he never had met her before so he couldn't be expected to tell her apart from any other lovely maiden at court._

_"Aye," her lips were still close to his ear. He needed to remove her, she was causing him to feel unlike anything he had felt before. Girls were always trying to catch his attention back at home, so why was this girl any different? She was acting on her attraction toward him, and he could do nothing about it since he was below her._

_He took a step backwards and studied the princess. Was she merely playing games with him? He suspected her to be the sort of lady to do such a thing. Then he took a good look into her eyes and saw the right amount of mischief but not that look of cunning or deceit that was so common on the girls of the court at home._

_"What are you looking for?" She gave him a puzzled grin._

_"Truth."_

_Her grin widened, "What truth?"_

_"The truth to why you wanted to meet me here."_

_"That's an easy answer."_

_She didn't say anything more but filled the space between them, raised herself on her toes once more and kissed him. He was surprised but it was a pleasurable feeling, the warmth of her, the closeness and he didn't stop her—in fact he kissed her back but with much more spirit than he even thought to possess. She was something different, the princess._

_Nicolette and Jaythen met many more times over the months during his time in the King's court. He would be taught the proceedings of ruling as a count by day, and by night he was Nicolette's entirely._

_They met in many places, but never in her room for there were guards set about that area of the palace that would report her frivolities to her father. They met in the stables where she stole kisses and fond embraces from the young lord, and afterward they collapsed in the hay where he told her about his life in Wendbury and she listened intently all the while twisting an auburn curl around her finger._

_He learned about her as well, how she lived and what she loved. She enjoyed going riding and did so every Friday. Her favorite food was salmon that was shipped from Tierbo. Her dreams were to travel the realm, and see every city, and all of the countryside. She made jokes and he laughed, and he made her laugh even when he didn't try. The weeks seemed to fly by when he was with her. Nicolette was an intelligent, wonderful girl and soon enough he forgot altogether that she was the princess—that is—until the day in September she did not meet him where she had said to meet._

Why was he thinking of Nicolette again? The thought had suddenly unleashed upon his poor mind, so sudden his heart took to beating faster within him. He could feel it thump against his chest with each step he took toward the castle. He looked back to Warwick, who was swinging his arms and breathing heavily as they climbed the steps toward the gate. _The ring, it made me think of her._

He now furrowed his brow, unexpectedly in a heavier mood. He had bought a ring for a girl who was not the princess, and even if he had bought the princess a ring she would not have married him. The only girl he could have wanted to marry could not have him. He demanded Warwick to hand him the kerchief, and he did. Jaythen took it to his chambers, hiding it in his a wardrobe drawer. He would not give it to her until before the engagement celebration—so others could see it and think their charade was true.

He did knock on Avalyn's door the second time he passed it, for this time he intended on speaking with her.

He heard the latch click and the door cracked open—a pair of extraordinary green eyes staring back at him, "Yes?"

He entered despite not being given permission, "Do you know how to dance?"

"What do you mean?"

"Allemandes, gavottes, waltzes, do you know the proper steps for any of those?"

"What are you speaking of?" her eyes were wide as usual and she seemed to regard him as though he had lost his mind.

He sighed, "They will never believe that you come from the court of Prition if you do not dance."

"How so? If need be I can say I don't dance."

He considered her remark but shook his head, "The court of Prition is known for having the best dancers. They throw an unusual amount of balls or festivals every year."

"Why do I need to dance anyway?"

He sighed, realizing no one had told her about the engagement party. "They are throwing a ball for us tomorrow night on behalf of our engagement."

He saw her eyebrows rise in alarm, but it just as quickly furrowed, apparently not pleased with the new development. "And I must dance?"

He nodded solemnly.

"I must dance the way that your kind does."

_What does she mean 'my kind'? Nobles?_ He nodded, remembering peasants weren't so learned in the formalities of the higher class. "I can teach you."

She crossed her arms, looking elsewhere and frowning—considering his offer. Finally she straightened up, having made her decision, "Fine."

He led her to the castle ballroom, it was empty and the sunlight reflected off the tiles in the floor through the large windows. "It's very spacious," she noted and her voice made a small echoing off the high ceiling.

"To accommodate many people," he explained and held out his hand for her to take so he could begin his lesson. She hesitantly took it and he twirled her in closer, under his arm and caught her with a hand placed on her lower back. She seemed struck with astonishment at the sudden movement but then to his surprise grinned ever so slightly but gave no vocal explanation to why.

"Gavottes are usually the most popular dance played at these balls. It's a 4/4 time beat, so you step—" he had a hold of her and stepped backward, creating a space in between them, "You are supposed to follow my lead."

She stepped forward after him and then he told her to take a step back so that he could follow. He counted to keep time.

"There will be music though right?" she seemed confused and stepped back. It threw his counting off so that in her next movement she stepped backward again, pulling him after her. He stumbled into her a little, let go and straightened his posture. "Yes. Why do you ask—do you think everyone will be counting as they dance?"

She didn't answer but bit her lip instead, and didn't meet his stare—indicating she _was_ suspecting such activity.

He gave a small chuckle and took her hand once more, "If you feel that way about my counting—" he started to move again but this time began to hum the tune of a gavotte. Their court composer always had the particular tune played after the feast. Avalyn seemed to dance better with the music. He grinned through his humming, leading her around the ballroom—she didn't even step on his foot. He did notice that her body held an unusual amount of tension beneath his hold.

"Why are you always so stiff?"

She stopped concentrating on her foot work and met his gaze, "I'm not used to—people touching me—unless—"

He repeated her last word, with a concerned frown, "Unless—"

She seemed reluctant to share the information but sighed—with tiredness, and when she finally did speak it was quiet, "Unless they aim to strike me."

He recalled her saying that her foster family did not show her any care, and figured that the lack of human touch had caused her to be apprehensive—especially if all the contact she had ever known was out of violence.

He halted their movement—though it was going well and she was learning the dance. It caused her to stumble into him this time and she let go, stepping away hurriedly. She was looking away, off to somewhere and withdrawn into herself. He took her hand gently, and of course, her body tensed.

"Avalyn," he said but she was glancing at his hand that was holding hers, so he lifted her chin. She braced herself for something, but there was no need to. "I would _never_ hurt you. You have no reason to fear me."

She blinked, perhaps slow at comprehending his words—or not sure whether to believe him. Or perhaps her mind was gone altogether—still involved in other thoughts. She finally took a breath of ease and nodded, "Thank you."


	8. Love Scorned

They practiced allemandes and waltzing after she was fully confidant in the gavotte. They spun and spun, up and down endlessly for an hour while he was teaching her the waltz. While they were spinning, they failed to see a servant enter the ballroom.

The servant coughed loudly to make themselves known. Jaythen let go of Avalyn, suddenly startled and she twirled off by herself from the momentum with her arms out before stopping. He noted she had the hint of smile on her lips. The servant bowed appropriately.

Jaythen nodded, he was out of breath from moving and humming tunes, "What is your business here?"

"Milady has sent me to inform you that you are late to the noon meal."

Jaythen's stomach gave him its own warning by rumbling. He nodded again, "We will be there shortly."

"Yes, my Lord," he bowed and left.

"Are you hungry?"

"Not so much," Avalyn had started practicing the footwork for the allemande but with an invisible partner.

"Still, would you join me?"

She eventually ended her dance, "Why? Your mother only gives me cold looks throughout the entirety of meals."

He wanted to ignore them, but it didn't make them less true and poor Avalyn had to endure them all the while she sat there. He shook his head and frowned, "If you do not wish to join me, you needn't to. I do ask that you meet me here later so we may conclude the dances steps that I have taught you."

"I will practice while you eat," she nodded, starting up her dance again. He turned around and smiled as he left the ballroom—she was very amusing. He heard her add, "After all, I've found dancing to be of quite fun."

His smile only broadened.

---

"Have you forgotten that you must eat?" His mother's lips were pursed; apparently unhappy he had just entered the dining hall when the meal had been served nearly a half-hour before.

"I was preoccupied."

"With _Lady_ Avalyn no doubt," Halden spoke from his seat—putting an insulting tone of emphasis on her title.

"Pray tell what were you doing that was so important you should miss the noon meal?"

He cleared his throat after taking a swig of water, "She wanted to dance, and I—being her future husband—indulged her. After all, she is from Prition, you know how they like to dance."

"Still, I find her quite odd," His mother nodded her head, considering his lie. "Is she not joining us?"

"She wasn't hungry," Jaythen replied.

"She never seems to eat her food. You must tell her to start eating, otherwise she'll waste away before she can be fitted for a wedding gown."

"Wedding gown?"

"Yes. She must wear a wedding gown to the wedding. You _are_ getting married or have you forgotten?" his mother was smirking, somehow seeming satisfied at his lack of commitment.

"No, I know. Though wedding date hasn't been set yet—" he shook his head, and then his eyes widened in panic at a sudden thought and he sat forward, "Has it?"

His mother sniffed, "Your father has decided it is to take place a week from tomorrow. That way, you'll have a week in between the engagement celebration and the nuptials. Your father—" her tone had started out with indifference but turned emotional "Your father hasn't much longer and he wishes to see you marry before he is taken into the arms of Heaven."

Jaythen's own appetite was next to nothing after hearing that his wedding would be so soon. His father was not appeased any longer, and now desperate to make sure Jaythen was wed. He hated to hope for a swift death upon his father, but that was what he needed. The Countess had overcome her temporary despair at the news of the Count, and was studying her son very closely for any hints that he was displeased at the news.

Jaythen knew his mother's tricks and only smiled, "Fabulous, I cannot wait to call Avalyn my wife."

His smile only became true when he saw the despair his mother's face betrayed. He wondered why his mother disapproved of Avalyn so.

"Mother, you dislike my bride."

His mother looked taken aback, like he was saying nonsense, "I never said such a thing!"

"Madam, you have been nothing but cold, uninviting, and insulting to her, which is far from any sort of fondness. I'm growing weary of this attitude and demand you show her the respect that is due to her."

His mother's mouth was agape; shocked that Jaythen had given her an order. She closed it and sucked in a breath, "Yes, my Lord."

Halden might have rolled his eyes but Jaythen wasn't sure, for he was just out of his line of sight. Halden was untrustworthy, and Jaythen feared his cousin would tell the truth about Avalyn soon.

---

He excused himself from the table after that. He tired of his mother and cousin. His mother disliked Avalyn for reasons unknown and his cousin disliked the fact that she was a commoner. He made his way back to the ballroom where he found his pretend bride swinging herself around in an allemande.

He watched her from the threshold, as she hadn't noticed him yet, or if she did, it didn't daunt her. She was concentrated, and maneuvered still as if an invisible man were holding her, with her arms encircled around—her hips swiftly moving from side to side.

_There was a ball that next night in honor of a visiting royal—the night after his sweet Nicolette did not appear for their meeting in the gardens. He thought of many reasons to why she had failed to meet up. She was ill. She let time slip away. Her guards caught her. She was—well it didn't matter because the fact was that Jaythen had been left standing there for two hours among the wilting flowers, which only furthered his own wilting._

_He dressed in his best outfit for the ball and hoped the Princess would be in attendance. The ballroom at the palace was much more grand and large than the one at home. The whole of the King's court was in attendance. Some bold ladies of court asked Jaythen if he would dance with them but he politely declined and searched for any flash of auburn hair._

_Finally, after what seemed for an eternity of loneliness he spotted her on the dance floor. A man with slicked, black hair was dancing with her and she politely smiled all the while. _

_Had she forgotten about him? _

_He retreated to the lines of viewers and kept his eye on her. When it was time for the feast, Nicolette and her partner were seated at the front of the table near the King._

_The King was a man of no nonsense, and because of that his Realm stayed in order and it kept the people happy. He was in a pleasant mood that evening and before his subjects could break a piece of bread, he tapped a spoon against the cup of his goblet to make a toast. Jaythen gripped the stem of his glass, his focus on the King's daughter instead of on the King himself._

"_Esteemed subjects of my court, this is a happy night. I would like to announce the engagement of my daughter, Nicolette, to the Prince of the Evening Isles."_

_The raven-haired man held up her hand and everyone saw the ring on her finger, gathered with diamonds upon smaller diamonds. Jaythen took a big swig of the liquid in his own goblet, his knuckles bent so hard they turned white. Cheers and clapping could be heard from all across the room—except from the one young man who had suddenly slumped into his seat, feeling as though his heart had been destroyed. He closed his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts but the cheering made him angry, and his thoughts were sent scattering. They were all happy while he was anything but. When he opened his eyes, the Prince was kissing her hand and then they sat to continue their feast. Jaythen picked at the stuffed pheasant in front of him, but it was too much to be in the same room with her. He stood up abruptly, bowing and apologizing to anyone who had noticed—"You must excuse me, I feel quite ill."_

_He had five more months to stay there, and in those five months he did not see her again—and they were the longest and loneliest five months of his entire life. His heart still stung when he thought of her so he swore to put her out of his mind forever and he swore never again to fall so fast or so hard for a maiden._

"Do you think it will suffice?" Avalyn broke into his thoughts—thoughts that had ambushed him again upon seeing her dance.

"Dance with a real person and I shall tell you," he approached her with a hasty bow.

She replied with a swift curtsy. He took hold of one of her hands and let his other set around her waist. They were off in an allemande, and he was quite impressed with her knack at learning and retaining the dance steps. They rounded the inside portion of the ballroom. Their movement caused an artificial wind to tug at loose pieces of her hair so that they streamed around her shoulders. Her eyes were closed—concentrated. He slowed their dance until it was ended.

Her eyes opened again, "Well?"

"Very good."

She grinned, seeming satisfied with herself. "I like dancing."

"I'm glad it is so," he found himself grinning as well, "Have you not ever danced before?"

"Not to real music and not like this," she spun on her heel. She seemed so lighthearted at the moment he couldn't bear to inform her that they were planned to wed in a little more than a week. Then again, she would enjoy the life of court if she liked dancing. If he were serious about marrying her, he would have liked many more months to spend with her to learn about her so at least he wouldn't be in danger feeling spite towards her for their forced wedlock. In fact, whether she was to marry him or not, he would have liked to know her better. He found the girl with green eyes to be exceedingly pleasant when her guard was down.

* * *

"The maids tell me that your fiancée leaves her room late at night and doesn't reappear until early the next morning."

"Mother, are you sure they're trying not to initiate gossip? Are you sure _you're_ not making this up because you don't favor Lady Avalyn?"

His mother didn't say a word more about it, seeing her son was displeased at her behavior. "Where is she anyway?"

"I suppose she is sleeping—"

"What a lazy little lug!"

"_Or _avoiding_ you_," He shot his mother a very irate look, this time it shut her up for good.

It was breakfast and Jaythen was trying to enjoy the bacon, and honey drizzled cakes on his plate. He rubbed his eyes tiredly for he had not gotten the best sleep. His thoughts were more and more focused on the Princess Nicolette. His wedding loomed closer and closer—and it was not a wedding where _she_ was the bride. It was impossible to eliminate her current engagement to that _prince_, but yet his thoughts were rampant with many idle rescue feats where he and Nicolette escaped together or were banished to other lands and lived happily ever after.

He finished his meal quickly and left to get on with more important matters. He made his way to his room, fell onto his mattress, and pulled out a wooden box from underneath his bed. Thankfully his servants hadn't been curious enough to open it when had had brought it back from the Imperial City. Inside were folded pieces of parchment, stacked and tied with a red ribbon. He had put them out of his mind, but since he could hardly sleep he thought reading them would help.

_My Dearest Lord,_

_ Please meet me this evening at the Western Tower near dusk. I must tell you something very important._

_ Your Loving Princess,_

_ Nicolette_

The night at the Western Tower was one Jaythen had held high in his heart. He closed his eyes, searching for the memory he had meant to banish forever.

"_What is so important then?" Jaythen had just ascended the last of the winding stairs and saw her leaning against the ledge. It was open and the air was warmer. They had been meeting for four months, almost every night. _

_She whirled around, with a startled stare. He was suddenly concerned and went to her, embraced her._

"_I have been thinking," she said, but her mouth was buried into his clothes and it was mumbled._

_He took her chin and pulled her head off of his attire so he could hear words clearer. She did not act like a princess when she was around him—she was herself—Nicolette._

"_Thinking of what?"_

_She removed herself, looking as though she was debating on actually telling him—which was frustrating because he had just climbed all of those stairs to meet her and hear what she had to tell him._

"_I've fallen in love with you," she said so suddenly, so assuredly he momentarily balked. She was the princess and she was in love with him—it felt unreal. Looking at her, he felt the same way and perhaps even more about her. She waited for his response anxiously._

_He smiled broadly and lifted her up, all the while kissing her—feeling the happiest since he could recall. She laughed and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. He set her down but not without an assault of kisses down her neck. She bit her lip as she watched him, suddenly coy—which was so very uncharacteristic of her._

"_What?" he noticed and stopped his onslaught of fevered adoration._

"_I want to go to sleep with you tonight."_

_His whole body stiffened, from enticement, and intense trepidation. He shook his head "You know that is impossible."_

_Not only was the Princess just to disappear for the night a seemingly impossible task but to make love to her and hope that they weren't caught or that her future husband—whomever they were—noticed, was just as impossible._

"_I've convinced my maid to sleep in my place, and have secured her silence of my plan with gold."_

"_We cannot—" he tried to convince her, and himself._

_She pressed further into him, convincing his stiffened body otherwise, "Please?"_

_He closed his eyes to collect his wild thoughts but he felt her lips brush against his, sending his heart beating harder and they flew open to see her standing on her toes once again, sealing his decision with a kiss._

"_Yes."_

He let out a sigh as he lay on his stomach—knowing that by thinking of that memory, he would be depressed beyond all reason. No one from Wendbury even knew of his relations with the Princess so there was no one that would know of his heartbreak, and therefore no one could console him.

He could remember tasting her on his lips and the smell of her in his sheets. He rolled over and covered his face with the parchment, letting it set there as his arms dropped languidly above his head and dangled over the edge of the mattress. Finally, he slept soundly.

---

He awoke awhile later on his own and brushed the parchment off of his face, soaked with the scent of Nicolette—a mix of gardenias and apple spice. He yawned and was in the middle of stretching when someone knocked on his door.

He opened it and saw a servant bowing, "There is a delivery from the dressmaker, Master Devlin, waiting for you in the main hall."

Jaythen nodded, remembering the appointment slightly. He groggily followed after the servant and saw Devlin's apprentice standing and holding a wrapped package.

"Thank you, give your master my gratitude."

The apprentice bowed in obedience before leaving. Jaythen carried the dress on his non-injured shoulder since it was surprisingly heavy. He rapped his knuckles against the door to Avalyn's chambers.

"She is in the ballroom, my Lord," one of the posted servants spoke up. He was puzzled by the news and handed the package to the servant, instructing them to open it and lay it out on her bed for her to wear later.

He hastily made his way to the ballroom, wondering if she had been dancing all afternoon. He stopped in the threshold so suddenly at the sight of his cousin dancing with her.

Her expression was one of stone as his cousin turned her about.

"Don't wear yourselves out, there is much more dancing to be had this evening."

Halden turned upon hearing his cousin and halted the dance. "I was just acquainting myself better with the future Countess."

He did not bow to Avalyn as he left her standing alone. He spoke with mockery as he brushed past Jaythen, "She dances well for being a nothing."

When he was fully away from them, Jaythen turned to Avalyn with questioning. She lifted her hands to grasp her arms, "Your cousin has a very hard grip."

"Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head, "He informed be that I didn't deserve to be here. He knows of your charade."

It was his turn to shake his head, "Partially. He still thinks that we're getting married and that's why he doesn't tell my parents."

A silence settled upon them again. He was very aware that he had promised they wouldn't be married in the end, and couldn't bear the green stare directed at him. His father was hurrying things too far along.

"So is this where you've been all day—dancing?"

"I have."

"We missed you at breakfast."

"We missed you at the noon meal."

He then realized why he was so hungry, but discarded the thought of food since there would be plenty later at the engagement celebration. She didn't seem pleased and regarded him with not a bit of the lightness he had seen the day before.

He sighed, "They surely told you."

"Yes, and it would explain why I have an appointment to be fitted for a wedding gown tomorrow afternoon," her voice rose in pitch, telling of her distress. "How long will we be playing pretend? I can't last at this for much longer."

"I apologize, it will only be until the Count—"

"What if he recovers? I _can't_ marry you. I won't."

"It won't come to that."

"How can you be so sure?"

He gave an honest shrug, "He is very sick, I doubt he will last another week."

She bit her lip and frowned. Her stare wandered about the walls of the room, taking in the décor and design.

"I bought you a gift."

She looked upon him suddenly, surprised "What?"

"I left it in your room. You'll know what to do with it." He bowed, "I shall take my leave but don't go about dancing the rest of the afternoon because the servants are bound to enter and do last minute preparations for tonight." He bowed to her, "Until we meet again."

He wandered away from the ballroom with his thoughts now mulling about her words. _What if he does pull through? She won't marry me and then I will be caught in my lies. If he doesn't pull through, then we won't be married, but she will have to leave otherwise people will wonder why I told everyone we were engaged._

It seemed to him, that either way, the outcome was undesired.

* * *

A/N: Just so anyone knows, there wasn't A DB section in the forums so I made one :D


	9. A Formal Engagement

Jaythen visited his father again to wish him well. Although they both knew it would not be so. His father had seen Avalyn the day after she had arrived and was absolutely glowing that his son had found such a beautiful mate—he called it Jaythen's 'stroke of luck'. Jaythen shared his father's idea, but it differed to the fact he felt lucky because he had stumbled upon her when otherwise he would be lost forever in the Great Forest. His father talked of the wedding the next week and Jaythen's mood fell—he wasn't ready to get married and that was why he was lying to everyone. That and the fact, he did not love anyone else enough to even propose. He bid the Count a good night and returned to his chambers in order to prepare for his engagement party.

Warwick handed Jaythen a black, formal jacket to wear over his shirt. Jaythen was turning up his cuffs and studying himself in the mirror, not wanting to have anything for his mother to fuss at. He then grabbed the jacket and slipped it over his arms.

"Warwick, hand me the kerchief in the top drawer there," he ordered. Warwick nodded and retrieved it. Jaythen unwrapped the cloth and looked at the beautiful piece of jewelry. The candlelight around him caught in the surface of the emerald and made it sparkle. He wrapped it back up and put it in the pocket of his jacket. The celebration would be starting soon, and he felt nervousness for it would be the first time he would host a formal cotillion in the castle, and also the first time Avalyn would be publicly presented. He hoped to God that no one from court was well traveled enough to know the extent of Prition's nobility—otherwise they might question Avalyn's true origins. He ran a quick hand over his chin—disappointed it was still so smooth.

Warwick led him out of his room and to the ballroom where guests were mulling about in anticipation of meeting the girl Jaythen had chosen for his bride. He nodded politely and bowed appropriately depending on which guests he passed or was obligated to chitchat with as he made his way further into the room. Warwick had left, seeing his task to his lord was finished—but Jaythen wished his valet would have stayed just a little longer just so he wasn't alone in the groups of courtiers.

My Lord, where is your fiancée? We are positively impatient to catch a glimpse of her."

The speaker was Lady Rossem and she was arm in arm with her husband, Lord Rossem who didn't look like he was dying of impatience from not seeing Avalyn but more from trying to make his way to the table that held all of the party's alcohol if not for his wife's tight grasp. He was too impatient even for a servant to come around and offer him a drink.

"She'll be along shortly," Jaythen's gaze darted across the room to catch sight of Avalyn but she was not among them.

"Warwick!" He called to the lad who was flirting with a young noble. Warwick gave Jaythen a look of frustration but nonetheless made apologies to the pretty girl and approached his master's side.

"My Lord?"

"Would you please go to my lady's chambers and fetch her for me?"

Warwick bowed and departed to follow his orders. Jaythen passed the Lord and Lady Rossem, she now engaged in small talk with the Duchess of Palona—and her husband eyeing the drinks with ever increasing desperation. Jaythen smirked at the fellow's humorous misfortune and grabbed himself a flask of wine. As soon as the liquid hit his tongue, a warning rumbled through his stomach, reminding him of the last party, and that it was not wise to drink on an empty stomach.

Warwick returned but without the girl with green eyes, "She refuses to leave her chambers until she can speak to you."

Jaythen sighed and handed his flask to Warwick who simply shrugged and continued where Jaythen had left it off. Jaythen stepped briskly through the halls, quite exasperated at Avalyn's stubborn behavior. He banged his fist against her door, "I'm here! What would you like to speak to me about?"

The door opened almost immediately and a hand grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him inward. He was pulled to the side of her and she shut the door behind them. He straightened his appearance with a huff before taking a glance at her. She was pacing back and forth the room like a caged animal. His eyes widened as he took in her appearance—a very, very—_beautiful_ caged animal.

The gown Devlin had made was extraordinarily fine looking with gold-colored material bunched up in layers around the skirt and a finely detailed bodice with black lace outlining the edges. Avalyn's hair was for once, braided and put up elegantly with decorative pearls—the color of her gown accented the color of her hair most stunningly.

"I need you to say it again—because it is all coming at me so fast that I am having doubts about the sincerity of your promise."

His mind couldn't comprehend what she was talking about, for it was still distracted at taking in her appearance. She stopped pacing and placed her hands on her stomach and choked out, "Or have you tricked me?"

He shook his head, his distraction broken by the hurt in her tone, "What? Trick you? Never."

She bit her lip, still unsure—"Then tell me again."

He looked to her to see what she was so adamant on hearing—her emerald eyes bore into him and he knew. He sighed and gently took her hand, leading her closer to him.

"I promise that we will _never_ be married, you are only doing this to aid me until my father dies and if plans go awry and you find yourself still here on our set wedding date—you may leave."

She seemed to relax a little and made a move to take her hand back but Jaythen held firm, "One more thing however, to complete my charade."

He pulled the kerchief out of his pocket with his free hand and unwrapped it to reveal the ring. The kerchief dropped to the floor while he brought her hand up and slid the ring on her finger before letting it go. She stared at it, awestruck.

"This is meant for _me_?"

"It's your 'engagement ring.' Keep it. Maybe you'll remember me by it."

She looked at him as if he were foolish to give her such an expensive thing. He held out his arm for her to take, "Shall we? I would hate to see all of your dancing lessons go to waste."

She nodded while a sudden excitement filled her eyes at the prospect of dancing.

When they arrived back to the ballroom, it was time to set down for the feast. His father was missing everything but Jaythen suspected that he would drag himself out of bed and crawl to the front pew on his wedding day—just to be sure his bloodline was secure. He then had a thought that was both alarming and ridiculously humorous—that his father would go as far to crawl to his son's bedchamber on his wedding night 'just to be sure the bloodline was secure.' He cringed at such a thought but couldn't help but to silently laugh at the ludicrousness of it—and high probability, knowing how desperate his father was.

He sat at the head of the dining table in the formal dining hall. His mother sat on one side while Avalyn sat on the other, followed by Halden. As head of the table, it was his responsibility to begin the feast, and for him to introduce his bride. He held his hand out to Avalyn and she timidly took it and rose in her seat.

"My lords and ladies, I have the pleasure to introduce you to my bride—the future Countess of Wendbury—Lady Avalyn of Prition."

There was applause and congratulations from his guests. He kissed the top of Avalyn's hand, noting the smoothness of her skin against his lips, before letting her sit again. He saw his mother eyeing Avalyn's ring out of the corner of his eye. He straightened up with a clearing of his throat and held out his arms, "Thank you for coming. Please enjoy the fine things the court of Wendbury has to offer."

He sat down and let out a nervous breath—it being his first time heading a formal dinner—which was one of the many things he had been taught to do while in the Imperial City. The servants began to serve the meal—there were at least sixty guests that were seated in the room, twenty at his table alone.

"Did you give her that ring?" His mother broke formality, leaned over and asked with a whisper.

"Yes."

She frowned, but didn't voice any misgivings that she was surely thinking. Instead she snapped, "Tell her to eat something."

"Are you not hungry, my lady?" he inquired, seeing Avalyn's plate was full and she was looking around—taking everyone and everything in.

"Oh," her concentration was broken and she looked about for her utensils. She found a fork, and then began to poke at her mutton with it, "I guess so." She then picked up her knife and sawed at it—nothing that any born and bred lady of court would do. Halden looked at Jaythen with a haughty smirk. His mother looked embarrassed for the poor girl.

"What?" Avalyn inquired, seeing those around her regarding her with puzzlement.

Halden chuckled and set down his own utensils, putting an arm around her and grabbing her hands, showing her the proper way to cut mutton with a knife.

It took every bit of Jaythen's will power not to lean over and tear his cousin off of her. She did not like being touched, as it was apparent by her stiff body language. He let go of her when she managed to be less savage in her cutting. Jaythen could see the threads of his lie unravel as his mother carefully studied his pretend fiancée. He continued to eat, hoping that her dancing would restore the façade.

He held light dinner conversation with a few courtiers who had asked him about his stay at the King's court. He only smiled and recounted small, unimportant things even though his mind went straight to Nicolette. He noticed Avalyn staring at him as he conversed—wondering what she thought of him.

The guests retreated to the ballroom once their stomachs were satisfied. The musicians were in place and ready to play at the front of the room. Jaythen led Avalyn to the center where he positioned them for the first dance.

'Gavotte' he mouthed to her. She nodded—determined and ready. They heard the tap of the court composer's baton, and then with a throw of his arms, the musicians began to play.

Avalyn started out strongly by taking the lead. She must have been slightly nervous from all the stares directed at her. Jaythen smoothed his hand across her back in order to soothe her nerves. Her body remained tense and strained but she let him take the lead instead. He released her waist at the song's crescendo and she twirled around him until he caught her by the waist again. He noticed that she was grinning and with a slight blush. They finished out the gavotte with no other mishaps. He bowed to her and she curtsied in return. Guests clapped for their host—entertained and pleased.

Avalyn let out a breath, as if though she had been holding it the entire dance. She laughed nervously and took swallows of air, "That was amazing."

He couldn't help but to laugh at the innocent glee her expression possessed when she danced, "You would dance all night if you could, wouldn't you?"

She didn't answer but only gave him a sly grin that told of the truth. They started an allemande after that, and then another gavotte, and then a waltz.

Jaythen had to take a rest. His legs ached from so much movement. The Duke of Palona asked if he could take Jaythen's place with Avalyn and Jaythen allowed it. The Duke of Palona was an upstanding gentleman, respected but Jaythen prayed he did not find Avalyn unfamiliar to court. So he watched them intently, as they danced, ready to intervene if the Duke asked too many questions—ones that Avalyn couldn't answer.

Many guests passed by and noted with pleasure how sweet and beautiful Avalyn seemed to be and he wished his mother would have held the same approval that members of the court did for the girl with green eyes.

"You're fiancée is lovely," a body sat down next to him suddenly and said, but with disdain. It was the one member of court who _wouldn't_ approve—he sighed, knowing her voice. He put on an aloof smile to face her.

"Why thank you, Lady Vitoria."

"Although I was in Prition two summers ago at court and I don't recall ever hearing her name mentioned—_Avalyn—_you said it was, right?"

Jaythen's smile fell just a little but it was too dangerous to give such truths away, so he caught it and quickly thought of a reason, "She attended finishing school when she was fifteen, perhaps that is why you did not see her when you went."

"The finishing School LeTulet?"

"Is there any other?" he asked—meaning it as a real question—for he did not know how many finishing schools were in the Realm. It must have been the only noteworthy one because Vitoria took his question as a snobbish retort.

Vitoria held her hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh, "If she had attended the prestigious LeTulet, then she would know better than to saw mutton with a knife."

He then shrugged, "It matters not how she cuts mutton, I love her."

Vitoria's smile dropped and she scooted nearer, closely studying his face, "I think you are lying."

"How can you even say that?" He asked in a hiss. Her words were dangerous in such an occupied room—during his _engagement party _no less.

"You have the look of indifference when you say it. If you truly loved someone then it would not be spoken with such apathy."

He cleared his throat and allowed his head to fill with thoughts of Nicolette, "I _love_ her."

Vitoria retreated at his words, although not knowing his tone of truth was meant about the princess. He looked to Avalyn who was waltzing with the Duke, politely smiling at what he was saying but with a brightness in her eyes at the flowing movement she was partaking in. It seemed the Duke was charmed and he would not pose as much as a threat to the undoing of Avalyn's identity as Vitoria would.

_Am I the only one that believes in this charade? Or can everyone else see through it?_ He wasn't talking about the farce of her status, but the charade that was their relationship.


	10. Overcast

A few more days had passed since the engagement party—and the Count's life was still hanging by a thread—which made both the young lord and the girl with green eyes nervous.

Avalyn had accosted Jaythen once more about their situation, first thing in the morning and Jaythen begged her to be patient. She only gave him one of her exasperated looks and started off—to be away from him. Awhile later, he went looking for her to apologize but forgot what he was doing when he found her in the library, sitting with her legs pulled under her, and reading a book.

He sat across from her with a face full of surprise, "How do you know how to read?"

He figured a peasant—a _girl_ no less—would not know such a skill.

"My mother taught me—" she jerked her gaze up, seeing what he was going to ask next, knowing the answer, "My _real_ mother."

"I thought she abandoned you when you were a baby?"

Avalyn closed the book, shaking her head—"No. I was five years old."

He only assumed that when she said she had been raised by farmers, that it was from since infancy.

"Why did she do it?"

Avalyn swung around with a fierce glare, "I don't know!" she crossed her arms, and grumbled quietly "But I aim to find out."

There was a crackling fire keeping their part of the room warm and she stared into at it with a frown and then after a moment she huffed and placed her book back onto its place on the shelf. "She told me that she would return for me."

"What if she does?"

"She _won't_. It's been twelve years."

"I'm sorry for your misfortunes."

"Don't be, they don't concern you," her voice was cold. He frowned; aggravated that she wouldn't open up to him. Then again, he was, to some extent, wounded at the fact that she _didn't_ want him to know about her life—she didn't trust him.

Jaythen stared into the dancing flames while his thoughts receded into other matters, his father's sickness, wondering how long Halden would stay quiet about the truth, and of course, Nicolette.

_"When I return home I am supposed to marry."_

_ Nicolette had been tracing circles on Jaythen's stomach as she lay against his chest. Morning light was illuminating his chambers, and drenched her hair, highlighting it to a bright, wine-colored red. Her fingers had stopped moving at his words, "Who?"_

_ He inwardly grinned at the jealousy in her tone," I don't know. I suppose a girl of my choice."_

_ Her fingers slowly began their path again, "Whoever she is, she will be lucky."_

_ He grabbed the princess around her waist and pulled her closer so her face was close enough to kiss, "Why do you say that?"_

_ She pushed her lip out into a pout, "We both very well know I will be bargained off toward an advantageous marriage to a great ruler—so whoever your bride will be, will not be me."_

_ "Why will she be lucky? I shall not love her nearly as half as I love you."_

_ Nicolette blushed at his pretty words, "Is that so?"_

_ "It is the truth," he mumbled before kissing her—it was slow and sweet._

_ How he dreaded the passing of time, knowing they could never be as happy as they were in that moment. He could only take comfort in knowing he would wake to her until the end of his visit._

"That look—your face is so downcast it seems as though a part of you has died," Avalyn broke his thoughts. His gaze removed from the fire and to her. She had found a new book to read but was instead, studying him.

He didn't offer an explanation. There were a great many things that he would be willing to share with a girl who offered to tell nothing about herself—but his affairs with the princess were locked away and would not be spoken of out loud.

"It's nothing," he grumbled and left her staring after him quite puzzled.

A spring storm had started outside, for there was a sudden rumble of thunder. Jaythen looked to the windows and saw raindrops begin to barrage the panes in a downpour. Halden was rushing through the corridor, coming toward Jaythen—he was tying his cloak in place.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"The rain has started, and it will be quite a help," he also pulled on a pair of leather gloves.

"Help for what, exactly?"

"Tracking the dragon, of course."

Jaythen rolled his eyes, "Are you still on about that?"

"Scoff at me now but I shall be the first man to slay a dragon and use its hide for my armor," Halden frowned, "and, I shall do it by myself."

Jaythen held his tongue from calling his cousin a fool. Was he so high in his opinion of himself that he would risk his life to prove it? Dragons were known to be vicious, and they were far too clever to be disposed of by one mere human. Even if there _were_ a creature of such a sort in the forest, it was surely gone by now.

"So when you do not return, what shall I tell the Countess?"

Halden narrowed his eyes, "I _will_ return. I wouldn't be so quick to antagonize the person who keeps your secret. The Countess would throw your fiancée out of court faster than a beggar at the gate."

Jaythen glowered at his cousin but forced himself to apologize because of the threat laced in Halden's tone, "I am sorry. Good luck on your endeavor." _No matter how ridiculous it is._

Another roll of thunder sounded in the sky.

"Thank you," Halden replied curtly and turned away, continuing down the hallway. Jaythen's stomach grumbled, telling him it was time to eat.

Conversations with his mother had become less lighthearted and more tedious by the day. He sat with her for the noon meal that day and tried focusing on eating rather than conversing.

"Is your lady not to dine with us again?"

He shrugged, "She's not hungry."

"When does she eat then? I asked the cooks and they say she never is there after dining hours, so what and when does she eat?"

"Why are you so concerned, mother?"

She pressed her lips together, "Why are so _unconcerned_?"

"She may do what she wants, I will not force her to eat if she wishes not to."

The Countess took a sip of her beverage, "If your father had that attitude, you'd have never been born."

Jaythen ignored her remark, but did wonder why Avalyn did not eat. In actuality, he thought she didn't eat as much was because she wasn't used to so much food, growing up in a peasant's household. Perhaps she feared that she would over gorge herself? Though she had missed more than a few full meals which was concerning. Was she ill? He would have to check with her afterwards. "How is the Count anyway?"

"The same. He sweats, he shivers, he coughs—and is not in any condition to be outside of his bed."

Sadly, that was a relief to Jaythen. He had no feelings of fondness for his father, because the Count had regarded Jaythen either with formality or sternness for the whole of is life—they regarded each other as mere acquaintances. On the other hand, he wished that his father had never fallen ill in the first place, because either way—married or not—he still would have to take up duties of the Count and govern Wendbury.

After he was done eating, he returned to library but Avalyn was not there. He checked in her room and she was absent there as well. He asked the servants if they had seen her but they had not. Panic started to fill him, wondering if she was so desperate not to marry him that she had left—and had gone into the storm.

He could only wait and see if she would return, or emerge from whichever place of solitude she was hiding at the moment. He hated to think that she had left without saying farewell.

He found himself in his chambers, reading more notes from Nicolette, thinking how she had tricked him. She never even told him that she was going to be betrothed to the Prince of the Evening Isles, and if he had known she was to be taken away so soon, he would have never gotten so close with her. So therefore he spent the rest of his days at the King's court, cold and lonely. His anger and his love for the princess were vast, and it was a strange feeling to hold such opposite emotions for a human at once.

It was still raining by dusk and Avalyn still was not to be found. He wandered around the castle, checking in every place he could think of until dinner.

Right before dinner, Halden returned from his hunt, and in a most joyous manner.

"So?" Jaythen asked, "Did you kill the _dragon_?"

Halden was sopping wet, but it did not daunt his happiness and neither did Jayhten's sarcastic tone. He brought out a small glass vial filled with a thick, dark red liquid, "I shot it twice, in its chest—this is the blood."

"So you _did_?" Jaythen had severe doubts that Halden could have killed it. He wondered if Halden had lied and filled the vial with some other manner of beast's blood just for his pride's sake. "It didn't retaliate?"

"Well, I snuck behind it and it sensed me—turned on me so I bravely struck it with my arrows. It reacted in alarm and retreated in the air."

"A dragon _fled_ a human?"

"It was injured—their undersides are easy to pierce if you aim right—and it knew it would only get hit with more arrows if it evened the score. I followed the blood trail as best as I could—the rain was washing it away—but then it abruptly ended and there was no body. So I suppose the rain cleared any evidence and the dragon is dying or dead as we speak, somewhere within the forest."

"What are you going to do with its blood?"

"Wear it as a trophy, since I couldn't find the body for its hide."

Jaythen decided his cousin was lying—it was too convenient not to mention impossible that a great beast had allowed Halden to strike it and then get away with such a crime. Though, he noted the look in his cousin's eyes was the same when he had killed that doe when they were younger. Halden's bloodlust was great and he took a deep pleasure in successful kills—it was actually quite a sick characteristic.

"Well I suppose you should get dry and wash up for dinner, congratulations."

Jaythen was glad his cousin was so merry, for he would be less inclined to tell the secret of Avalyn's class—but then again it didn't matter if she never returned.

They sat down for dinner, and Avalyn was still not among them. Jaythen's stomach sank, figuring she had become nervous and impatient because the wedding was supposed to be in just a few days, and so she had left.

His mother didn't even mention her absence, just gave a Jaythen a severe, suspicious look telling of her disapproval. Instead the dinner conversation was only Halden boasting about his supposed kill of the dragon. His mother nodded proudly, for her nephew had done a great service, disposing of such a dangerous creature. It wouldn't be long before the whole court and city knew of Halden's triumph. Though, if there was any sort of truth to it, Jaythen doubted the dragon would actually die from two shots to the chest. Perhaps it was wounded but it would seek Halden out with a vengeance once it was healed. He only assumed it would, since dragons were told to be evil, vengeful, creatures.

"The Count is gone from us."

They were interrupted near the end of their dinner by the Count's valet, informing them that he had passed away. After taking in the news, the Countess began to sob, pushing away from the table and running to the Lord's chambers to see for herself.

An intensity Jaythen had felt growing in his chest, eased a bit and he continued to sit at the table before finally following his mother. Halden's mood was hard to read at the news of His uncle's death, he still seemed drunk with his successes for not a shade of mourning was apparent in his features as he accompanied Jaythen to oversee the Count's body. When they arrived in the room, his mother was on her knees with her head on the Count's chest at the bedside. A twinge of sadness hit Jaythen as he realized that his mother really _had_ loved his father despite being forced to wed.

"Did he say anything before he…" his mother choked out but couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Yes, madam. He made a regret that he would not see his son's wedding," Warwick's father looked quite stricken at the loss of his master.

Jaythen felt horrid, because he was going to call it off as soon as the Count had expired—but that was not the time to do it. If his father's ghost was about and heard Jaythen's intentions, it would surely cause a ruckus. Again, he wondered if Avalyn was gone for good, which was a shame if it was true, because he did like her company. He looked upon the body of his father, the body pale and the eyes were closed—not suffering any longer.

They left the room filled with death and void of joy, but as soon as they were in the solar his mother was livid. "Where is that girl? She could at least be here with her family-to-be in such desolate times."

"Mother, about Avalyn—" he was about to tell how she was no longer there, and he wasn't going to marry her but at that moment a servant swept into the room with a quick bow, and in an urgent tone said, "Your Lordship, you are required in the main hall immediately."

He looked to his cousin and mother curiously, wondering what was so urgent. He left them and briskly followed the messenger through the corridors. Thunder grumbled from outside and the rain was loud as it pelted hard against the windows, a perfect setting for a visit from death.

When he reached the room, a guard was holding the limp body of Avalyn in his arms. Jaythen's heart stopped and he rushed to them. She was thoroughly soaked and there was a horrifying red stain spread throughout her garments. She took a breath, and his heart slowly started beating again, she was alive.

"What has happened!?" He cried.

"I saw her coming toward the gate and I asked myself 'What is a lady doing outside in such weather?' She was faint—hugging herself and when she reached me, she collapsed and I saw she had been bleeding profusely, and that she was the Lady Avalyn."

He shouted for a servant to fetch the physician immediately and took her from the Castle guard, to get her to a bed. He carried her while rapidly tearing down the hallway, ignoring the nagging pain in his shoulder from her body weighing it down—for she was the one who mattered the most and he had already been selfish enough.

He commanded the chambermaids to undress her, clean her, and put her into dry clothes. The physician arrived and rushed into the room, locking Jaythen out so he could examine her.

He paced outside in the hallway, worried and full of anxiety. His mother found him and demanded to know what was going on. He explained what had happened although he could not explain _why_ Avalyn had been out in the rain—something he would have liked to know himself. Concern showed in the Countess's expression but also a disturbance at the girl's behavior. He knew in his gut that she was running away from the farce that he had talked her into participating in, and it was his entire fault.

Finally after awhile, the door opened and the physician stepped into the hallway, "She'll live, although it is hard for me to tell exactly what happened—she only mumbled incoherently about events. I only know she has lost a lot of blood and that she must rest. I've given her an infusion to help her process. Do not disturb her."

"Can I at least see her?"

The physician nodded in acquiescence, and held out his arm for Jaythen to proceed into the room.

It was dark but not for one lit candle near her bed. He stood at the bedside, studying her, wondering what had caused her such harm—and becoming angered by it. She looked so weak; her brow was furrowed as she now slept with the flicker of candlelight only highlighting one side of her face while rest was in shadow. He hated that his selfishness had driven her to desperation. He should have never told his father that they were betrothed in the first place.

What puzzled him though was what was so wrong with him that she would _refuse_ to marry him? Many other ladies sought him for marriage but yet he did not catch her fancy—not that he wanted to. She didn't fawn over him, which was a quality he rather liked about her.

He took a last look at her and then blew out the flame, leaving her to sleep in darkness, and hoping the darkness did not overtake her permanently on the night that death had had already claimed one.


	11. Aggravated Avalyn

The first thing Jaythen did when he awoke the next morning was go to Avalyn's room to check on her—praying she did not die overnight. His relief spilled over in tenfold when he saw a servant carrying a tray of food meant for her. He commanded them to let him take it—even though his stomach was rumbling with its own need for food, and he knew that she would hardly touch hers.

She was still asleep. He placed the tray on a stand next to her bed and cleared his throat, to see if she would respond to noise. After a moment one of her bright green eyes opened tiredly and regarded him.

He sighed with more reprieve than he knew to have—"I've brought your breakfast."

"Thank you," she said after a moment of comprehending his words. She tenderly sat herself up and to his surprise reached for a scone and consumed it as though he would take it away. He watched in amazement as she cleared the entire platter in less than five minutes, it was the most he had ever seen her eat.

"What happened to you?" he asked indignantly, "Why did you leave?"

She paused in mid-bite of an apple, "I was intending to return, and I just wanted to go outside."

"It was raining though," Jaythen pointed out, not believing her.

"That doesn't matter, I should go out everyday," she said, continuing to eat but then realized what she had said and grew self-conscious.

"Why?"

She didn't answer him, just finished the fruit she was eating. He was surprised she didn't admit that she was planning on running away. It seemed the only plausible reason she should be missing for a whole day—she had even admitted to considering it the first evening she had come there.

"So what happened to you then? You returned with blood all over you."

"I was attacked…"

He raised his brows for her to continue. She sighed and lowered her eyes to her hands, "I don't remember anything else."

He could see that she was lying, for if a human had attacked her, they surely would have taken her amulet or her engagement ring—which both were still on her. If it were an animal, she would very well remember. He couldn't understand what or whom she was trying to protect by not revealing the truth. He stopped trying to pry her but finally asked the most imperative question, "Are you alright?"

She wiped the remnants of food off her fingers on the midsection of her nightdress. She winced, "I should be fine, I feel fine."

He nodded, although he noticed her pained expression. He gathered up the tray, taking his leave but paused, reminded of something important.

"My father has died."

Her eyes flew onto him with a sudden surprise, as though she thought it would have never happened. "Then I can go."  
"Well I would prefer that you rest, and recover from whatever has happened to you."

She nodded, although it was with a forced agreement. She seemed eager to leave, which hurt him—he would even call her ungrateful after all that he had done for her. When they had first met, she had said she didn't want to be who she was, and yet she would be going back to that as soon as she took leave—he didn't understand her.

Since she was resting, she did not leave the Castle to outside. She had tried to the next day, when she was feeling stronger—as she had healed remarkably fast—but he did not let her and she became angry and irate toward him.

Even if she wanted to go outside, he wouldn't let her go unaccompanied since of what happened the last time. Castle guards reported that she often hurried ahead on her walks in order to lose them—but they would always find her and she would return to the castle more annoyed than when she had started out.

In two days time, the young lord, the countess, her nephew and the entire court of Wendbury mourned at the funeral of the Count. He was buried in the gated off part of the graveyard where Jaythen's grandfather and great-grandfather were buried—the past Counts of Wendbury.

The Countess cried, but her tears were hidden behind a black-laced veil. Jaythen held his hands clasped in front of him and carefully listened to the eulogy given by the high priest—noting some of the praise was a pure fabrication, when the words used in the mourning speech were words such as 'honest', 'true', and 'noble'. His father was a grand Count, but often used foul behavior to get his way.

Jaythen frowned, wondering if it was a common, reused, eulogy for rulers, to make them look the best in death, far better than they were in life. He wondered if those words would be used on him, at his funeral—whenever that may be.

Avalyn wore a black gown; it was one that used to belong to the Countess. Devlin had made it many years ago for her for his aunt, Treffula's funeral. Avalyn was not paying attention in the least to what the priest was saying. She was scanning the woods nearby—seeming to look for a way out. He closed the space between them and grasped her hand—for a number of reasons. He silently was begging her to stay, he was maintaining the pretense that they were betrothed, and unknowingly he was seeking comfort, for his _father_ did die—and he would miss him—no matter how little they had known about one another.

Because she wasn't allowed outside by herself, Avalyn's demeanor turned from quiet to frustrated at everyone. She attended meals regularly but was unpleasant to the dismay of his family. She often ignored them altogether or when she had to acknowledge his cousin it was with pure ice.

"What is that?" she asked sharply, seeing he carried the vial of blood around his neck,

"A trophy of my kill," he replied haughtily.

"What _kill_?"

"The dragon that was in the forest."

Jaythen rolled his eyes.

Her stare turned to daggers, "You did _not_ kill a dragon."

He looked taken aback but then only smirked at her like she was just a silly, unimportant girl, "I surely did because I haven't heard it since."

Avalyn's eyes flew to Jaythen in a frown, faulting him for something of which he did not know about. He just raised his brow innocently and with curiosity with a piece of roast half way in his mouth before swallowing. She ate heartily to his Mother's pleasure but never stayed for conversation and excused herself as soon as her courses were eaten.

Jaythen often had to avoid his mother because he knew she was going to complain about Avalyn's behavior—which was slowly separating the charade that they were a happy couple and that she was a noble. The wedding was only in two days, and Avalyn was still there. He didn't want to marry her but he also did not want her to leave and he was at a complete loss of what to do—knowing she would leave anyway because he had promised her that she could.

She often stayed locked in her room, which didn't help matters because he couldn't talk to her, to ask her what was the matter. The servants who observed her couldn't report more than she was constantly aggravated and short-tempered.

He sat on his bed one afternoon, reading more of Nicolette's notes, as they gave him a pleasurable feeling and for a moment his memory would feel euphoric—until he remembered what had happened and he would have to distract reality and read another. A vicious cycle it was but he had nothing better to do.

Suddenly, the door to his room swung open and he hurriedly stuffed his the notes under his pillow as Avalyn swiftly charged him, falling into him roughly and grabbing the front of his shirt in her fists. A wild desperation was blazing through her features and he did not know how to respond—he was too shocked, and didn't even have time to if he could. She was livid as she pushed him back against the headboard with a violence and strength he didn't suspect her to have. His head hit the wood and her face was inches away.

"You will let me leave this castle. You will let me leave it now and you will not follow me, or so God help me I will _tear_ everybody down in my path."

"But…"

She jerked him forward and pushed him back again, "I _will_ return. I just need some time to myself, can you give me that much?"

He didn't know what to say, or how to fight against her. Her shrill, dangerous, tone and actions were not to be contested with so he meekly nodded. She sighed with huff and let him go, quickly leaving as soon she had entered.

He was so caught off guard at what she had done—acting like he was keeping her in a cage as if she were an animal. He took the crumpled notes from under his pillow and smoothed them out; realizing part of one had torn from the jagged action of hiding them. It was only the afternoon, and he doubted she would be attacked again in broad daylight and that thought eased him a bit. Still, he was concerned about her behavior and needed to tell her not to think of him as cruel captor because the only reason he kept her from leaving was to keep her safe—because he cared about her—although after what she had just done, it made him begin to think that she cared not for him at all.

To his relief she was present at dinner but she was quiet and did not give any indication of her earlier actions. She hardly touched her food—back to a meager appetite when she had eaten all of her food for the few meals before.

"I want to apologize if I have been short with any of you," she said as they ate.

Jaythen and his family stopped eating and looked at her.

She hesitantly picked up a spoon and dipped it in her bowl of soup, "I was temperamental."

"Apology accepted," the Countess was the first to speak, sounding rather impressed that the girl could take fault for her moods—something the Countess herself, was too proud to do.

"Aye," Halden nodded in agreement but still there was a hint of loathing in Avalyn's features toward him. She looked to Jaythen but he did not say anything, still wondering about the hostility he had witnessed earlier that day.

The queen ordered her son and nephew to the solar after dinner, not inviting Avalyn—for the reading of the Count's will. Jaythen already knew what he would inherit—he had been told for as long as he could remember.

"After your wedding, you shall ascend into your Father's position—you will be the Count of Wendbury." His mother explained, holding the parchment spread in front of her face.

"What will that make you?"

She lowered the document slightly, so only her eyes were visible and he could see she was frowning, "_Former_ Countess of Wendbury, since the day after next your _wife_ will take my title."

Jaythen had forgotten it was so soon. His stomach gave a nervous turn but he finished hearing what was left to his cousin and the few allies of the Count while he ruled. Of course a generous sum would go to Nicolette's father—the King, as a tithing for the kept prestige of their held lands and titles.

He excused himself from the solar then, and when he stepped into the hallway he saw that the girl with green eyes was waiting for him and she was less than pleased—obviously she had heard their conversations inside the other room.

"What?"

"You _know_ what."

When he didn't acknowledge what she wanted him to so she whirled around with an impatient huff—she was obviously done with pretending, playing his game, and with the young lord himself. She bustled away from him, through the rest of the corridor that led to the great hall, and took a last glance at him over her shoulder before saying, "Farewell."


	12. Knowing

The skirt of her dress drug along through the mud, but she didn't seem to know or care as she kept stomping forward—away from the castle and away from him.

"Avalyn!" he called, following her briskly but not daring to lay a finger on her as she was in a mood. "Avalyn!"

She refused to acknowledge him.

_Silly lass, where is she off to?_

She had nowhere to go to—this he knew but he couldn't bring himself to return without her. They were in the woods now, and it was dark. It wasn't a black-skied night but a dark blue, velvety sky that was perfect for falling stars.

She moved away branches of the trees in her path to continue forward and they swung backward, lashing him in the face or arms. She never did properly answer to why she should go outside every day—had she been planning an escape in secret all along to leave him to explain his lies?

He sucked in a desperate breath, "Avalyn, _please_."

She stopped short of letting another tree branch swing into him and then decided it was best to let it run its course. She moved a few paces ahead as the branch smacked against his healing shoulder. He shouted in frustration to which she finally turned around and acknowledged him.

"Why has it come to this? Your father died _three_ days ago—and yet I'm still tied up in your charade. You promised me that we wouldn't be married but the wedding is _the day after tomorrow_ and you show no signs to stop it."

"Is it so bad?" he snapped with blazing eyes, "To marry me? You could have _anything_ you wanted," He did not understand why she was so adamant to leave, it made him wonder if he was worthy of any girl, "Even after this time in each other's company, you don't carry—even just a bit of—a fondness of me?"

"It doesn't matter if I was fond of you—I can't marry you! You don't _know_ me."

He let his arms drop to his sides with a flattened feeling inside of him, "How could I? You never even gave me the chance."

She considered his statement and the way he looked at her with a pathetic desperation. She took a step toward him with her eyes narrowed, "Do you _want_ to know me, Jaythen?"

"I do."

Still her eyes were suspicious—studying him and his answer, for a truth. Finally, her careful expression changed to that of enthusiasm. She turned on her heel and pointed to her neck, "Please unclasp this and hold it for safekeeping."

He was puzzled to why she asked of such a favor but did so, relishing the softness of her skin on his fingertips as she rarely allowed him to touch her. She pulled the expensive engagement ring off her finger and placed it in his open palm. "This too."

"Why?"

"I will be back shortly, and when I return I'm going to show you something that will astound you." He would have suspected her of playing tricks, but because he had hold of the only thing she valued, he trusted her intentions. That—and because of the way she smiled when she looked back to him as she scampered away through the trees, silently telling him that she had grown—if only a little bit—fond of him.

He placed the jewelry in the pocket of his breeches and waited. He wondered what she had to show him. Maybe all those times she went for walks, she had come across something of great interest in the forest.

He was glad that she agreed to let him get to know her—perhaps now she would be less on edge and so veiled to him and the world.

"Where's your lady?"

Jaythen almost jumped out of his skin, and he whipped around to see his cousin appear between the trees.

"Who says that she's even out here? I'm in the wood collecting my thoughts for the wedding in two days."

Halden chuckled darkly, "Don't be a fool. I saw you two leave together and followed your footprints through the mud."

"Did you hear anything we said?" Jaythen admitted to her presence, only because he knew Halden to be the best tracker in Wendbury, and he wouldn't be fooled otherwise.

"Only muffled voices," he shrugged with indifference, "Where did she go?"

Jaythen sighed with relief, knowing his secret was still safe "She said she was going to get something to show me."  
Halden nodded, but not seeming as intrigued. Jaythen scanned the trees for a sign of her. Suddenly, there was a great amount of pain as Halden beat him in his recovering shoulder. Jaythen dodged what was next to being a hard shove into a tree.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!?"

Halden unsheathed a hunting dagger from his belt and twirled it, "It has been brought to my attention that if you fail to marry, then I get a hand in the Countship of Wendbury."

Jaythen had remembered his father threatening such things. How had Halden found out? Was it in part of the will?

"Don't be mad, Halden. I'm your cousin!"

Halden advanced slowly, playing with his younger cousin just a bit. Jaythen was unarmed and put himself behind a tree as if it would protect him.

"Losing you in the woods should have done the job, but then _she_ brought you back—you could have never have found your way home on your own. I planned to kill her_ tonight_ because no one would truly miss her—she being a nobody."

Those words angered Jaythen immensely, but all he could do was keep away with a clenched jaw. He couldn't believe that Halden's treachery went as far back as Jaythen's return from the Imperial City.

Halden continued, "But that wouldn't solve the problem as you would just find another bride sooner or later. No cousin, it is _you_ who I must slay to be Count."

"They'll discover it was you."

"Will they?" Halden's question wasn't true curiosity, for he spoke it with a sly assuredness that hinted that no one would find out. "I can make it look like you were attacked by another wolf, or I could just dispose of your body deeper within the woods where no one will ever find it and then they would say you've run away."

Jaythen began to panic—his heart fastened pace, and his breaths became thin, horrified at his cousin's intentions. He hoped Avalyn was far away enough not to be pursued after Halden had finished with him. Halden was just on the other side of the tree, confident in his ability to kill his desired prey—as opposed to his cousin who was always unsure of himself. Jaythen was a rabbit and he was the wolf.

Halden gave a sudden shout and attacked by lunging his body around the tree, stabbing his dagger into the bark. He just barely missed piercing Jaythen's stomach. Jaythen was off in a sprint hoping his lighter body was faster than his hulking cousin's.

It was hard to see in such twilight, which caused him—to his dismay—to lose his running start by stumbling over a collapsed branch and falling onto his stomach into the mud. Wetness started soaking through the front of his shirt, chilling his torso. He tried to stand and continue his mad dash but he felt a weight befall his back and a rough yank on his head—Halden was crouched over him and exposing his neck by pulling his hair back. The edge of the dagger was pressed against his skin, ready and willing to slit his throat open.

"I _am_ sorry about this."

"No you're not," Jaythen swallowed and closed his eyes—bracing himself for the quick pain and then death surely to come.

There was no pain, only a loud noise that exploded through his chest. It wasn't death and he had heard it before. He snapped open his eyes in time to see a gigantic claw swing above his head. Halden screamed and was thrown off of Jaythen. The young lord scrambled up to see his cousin collide against a tree—fall—and lay still. _Dead? _Jaythen wondered but saw him take a breath. _Unconscious,_ he noted with disappointment.

He looked up in the sky, where there was a golden dragon—he knew Halden hadn't _killed_ it, and now it was seeking its revenge. It was circling and coming back for him. He would have liked to gawk at it but its talons were outstretched, seeming ready to make a grab for him. He started to sprint, knowing in his heart he would lose the race against such a creature. Where was Avalyn? Had she been taken by the beast already. She was only a moment in his thoughts as the beating of its wings grew closer and louder, sending unnatural wind blowing up from behind him. It roared again, sounding so close the noise reverberated off his skull. He cried out and held his head, losing his balance and tumbling athwart the forest floor over sticks and tiny rocks. He stopped when he was on the flat of his back. His eyes opened gingerly and they bulged at the sight of the talons about capture him. He was yanked off the Earth in a violent motion, supposedly to be taken for immediate consumption while maybe Halden was to be the dessert. The sharp edge of the talon was hooked through his shirt and he could feel the smooth, cold surface against his back. The ground was shrinking as they flew higher and it unsettled his stomach. Before he could even yell out in objection—though it wouldn't have done much to aid him—the dragon flew too close to large tree branch, and it slammed against his head, rendering him gone to the world.

* * *

His head ached, and his eyes fluttered open to blurry surroundings. The smell of grass and magnolias filled his nostrils. The sensation of wind and cool night air lingered on his senses—or had they been part of his dreams? When his vision cleared, he remembered a certain flash of occurrences: Avalyn disappearing, Halden attacking him, and then a dragon towering over him, then knocking him against something so hard he would surely die from the impact.

"How do you feel?" he heard her voice, and turned his head to see her sitting, crouched next to him. _Am I dead? Did the dragon eat her too? Are we meeting in the heavens?_ Although his surroundings were still in nature, a meadow with surrounding trees.

He reached up and felt the side of Avalyn's face—to see if she were real—because she always had looked like she could have been made in dreams. She tensed slightly as per usual but only stared at him, expectantly. "Halden tried to kill you."

He sat himself up on his elbows. He took a look at her, noting her hair was undone and loose around her shoulders when it had been done up before—and then when he examined her further he saw she was without clothes.

"Where are your garments?!" he asked alarmed, feeling a Déjà vu of sorts from being in the woods with her while she had not on a stitch of cloth.

She shook her head, "There was no time to salvage them, Halden would have struck you down."

Her answer made no sense to him. "But there was a dragon!" he cried and took a hold of her shoulders, released her quickly when he remembered she was naked. He unclasped his torn cloak and threw it over and around her shoulders, so at least it covered her decently.

"Did the dragon hurt you?" She must have been near the danger if she knew Halden had tried to dispose of him.

A great disappointment filled her eyes then, which worried him and he placed his hands on her shoulders once more, "It _did_ hurt you. Where?"

She shrugged her shoulders and removed herself from his grasp, "No, the dragon didn't hurt me, and I'm sorry that it hurt you."

He gave her an odd look, wondering why she thought she should apologize for such a beast she had no control over. She seemed upset—about a number of things.

"We should head back," he stood, albeit with a slight disorientation. The woods didn't seem familiar anymore. There was no mud, and the trees were of a different nature. He took a look at her and realized she didn't want to go back—she shouldn't have had to.

"Do you want to go back?" she inquired quietly.

He thought about it, "No, but I suppose _I_ would have to. Halden shall not go unpunished if he wasn't already eaten by that creature."

"Jaythen, you can't go back so soon."

"Why?"

"Because we are nowhere near Wendbury."

"How is that—?" He began to wonder but suddenly noticed something he wasn't used to, the bareness of her neck. He reached into his pocket and felt the necklace and ring, lifted them out and held them before her "Why did you have me take your necklace and the ring?"

She swallowed a forming knot in her throat and played with grass that brushed against her ankles, "You said that you wanted to _know_ me."

"That I still do, very much."

They stared at each other awkwardly—he puzzled, and she quiet but every facet of emotion catching in her eyes. Soon, they narrowed from their wide, open, state. When she spoke, her voice was soft, although there was no one around to disturb, or so it seemed, "Haven't you ever noticed anything odd about me?"

He thought that was a silly question, "I suppose you carry a few quirks."

"I _need_ to show you something."

"I find you—" _strange_ _and_ _beautiful—_"what?" Jaythen was thrown off by the urgent tone of her voice and didn't get to tell his opinion. She was supposed to show him before all of the dreadful interruptions but he didn't see how she could now since they were not in the same woods—which still needed an explanation to why.

She stood up, "I was trying to show you before. It is why I didn't let you get to know me." His brows knotted, trying to make sense of what she was talking about. He watched her as she unclasped his cloak and it fluttered down around her feet, her body bare and beautiful in the morning light—he noticed a fresh scar just above her navel. Why was she presenting herself so? His gaze was fixed with fascination and curiosity but it was broken all too quickly by a harsh voice.

"Well, well, I see we're not the only ones alone in the wood this day," a brutish man appeared from the trees. Following him was a younger—but no less refined appearing—man who held a loaded bow aimed at the young lord. Avalyn whirled around in shock and made a grab for his cloak, hugging to her for coverage. The two men regarded her happily. Jaythen was growing quite tired of all the disruption.

"You," he pointed at Jaythen, "are quite loud, we could hear you nearly 100 paces away." Jaythen didn't move as he was trying to discern if the arrow aimed at him was out of hesitance, or treachery. The bowman was very distracted however because of the naked lass but not a few feet away. There was a hunger in his expression towards the girl with green eyes that made Jaythen's blood boil.

"That be a good strike for us as we haven't robbed anyone in days. If you'll just hand me over your monies we'll be on our way."

Jaythen immediately tossed his only pouch of gold coin at the man. He had no way to defend himself against two bandits, one with a weapon no less. He had also grown rather weary of his life being threatened.

The older brute picked up the pouch and jingled it, then laughed with satisfaction—which revealed how few teeth he really had. He then turned and focused on Avalyn.

"Ah, I wouldn't dream of covering such fineness," He grabbed her wrist and forced it away from her body, undraping a part of the cloak so it exposed the flesh that she was hiding. "We will take her as well. We both crave some tender company."

Jaythen stood at once, "You will _not_ take her."

The brute lost his smile and nodded at the bowman who drew his string tighter. Jaythen reluctantly sat down by the base of the nearest tree—waiting for a moment he could attack. Money wasn't an issue—they could take every coin from him but she was irreplaceable.

"I won't go with you," Avalyn seized her wrist back with surprising force. The brute hauled back and struck her across the face—and that's when hell broke loose.

Everything changed so fast that Jaythen barely had time to comprehend what he was seeing. The brute was launched backwards and hit the ground—the pouch of gold coin landing in the grass not far from reach. An abruptly large tail swung around and knocked the bow out of the other bandit's hands. There was a loud sound—an angry roar from the beast so unexpectedly there—that filled the air and his insides with terror. A talon swiped down and pierced the large brute all the way through his midsection—so he was skewered—his blood flowing freely into the crevices of the attached claw. The dragon opened its jaw and flicked the brute inside, and clamped down upon him. With a sickening crunch and a swallow the brute was no more. The accomplice was running away, rightfully terrified, and the dragon lifted off the ground by flight, quickly blocked him by landing in his path, and sent a torrent of fire that probably singed the fellow's eyebrows.

Then, all at once, the dragon was no more, only a bare-bodied girl clutching the man by his clothes with a deadly scowl filled with her wrath. The breeze in the air sent her wild, golden hair threading around them.

"I will let you live, but if you breath a word of me to _anyone_. I _will_ kill you."

He nodded forcefully, thoroughly terrified enough to do the creature's bidding. She threw him behind her and he stumbled but continued fleeing. She looked to the young man who stood still as a stone in the grass. She could see the horror and fright within his breathtakingly blue eyes and softened her scowl to a face of dismay.

"Fear me not," she commanded with her gaze held firmly in his, she closed her eyes and took a nervous breath. All at once her body twisted and grew into a new form—tall, sleek, and fierce—a dragon. She unfolded her wings, which doubled the size she appeared. He shrunk back in horror because it was true.

Avalyn_ was _the dragon_. _

Even though she seemed to pose no harm to him at the moment, he felt vulnerable in the great beast's presence. She had eaten a man whole—what was stopping her from doing the same to him?

The long neck lowered and a head moved forward into his space, he retreated—stumbled backwards and fell onto his rear end with his back against the tree. The dragon's snout bumped up against his chest and he hesitantly reached up and set his hand over the smooth, golden scales—bravely looking it in its emerald eyes. All at once its body transformed and he found himself cupping the human girl's cheek as she set in his arms.

His body was rigid, and he removed his hand at once despite the lovely feel of her skin, and despite the fact that it was one of the few times he had gotten to touch her. He was truly fearful of her, and his heart thrashed against his ribs so hard, trying to run away even if he wasn't going to make an attempt.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. I've never eaten a human before—" she made a face like she was getting a bad taste out of her mouth. Her hands were pressed against his chest for balance and he feared at any moment she would turn back to the creature and he would be skewered like the brute. He swallowed, wondering what he could possibly say to her after such a reveal.

"Have—have you always been a dragon?"

She removed herself to his relief, and found his cloak in the grass—throwing it over her body to be covered again, "The change took place without warning nor reason. I had lived seventeen years as a human and then one day, not too long before I met you, it just…happened."

He stared at her, still having trouble grasping what he had witnessed, and more so believing her answer.

"Please don't look at me like that," she snapped as she swiped up the little bag of gold coin he had given the brute. She came towards him then. He tensed when she crouched in front of him with her hand held out. He was still sitting where he had fallen. "May I have my jewelry?"

He handed them to her quickly, and she exchanged them with his bag—though the jewelry had slightly stuck to his skin because he had been grasping them so unknowingly hard in fear when he watched her snack on the human man. She gathered her hair to one side of her shoulder, brought her hands behind her neck and fastened the chain into place. She slipped the ring onto her left ring finger.

"I seek to find answers to this condition, and now that I'm no longer trapped with my false family or playing pretend for _you_—I have decided to continue my quest to find my mother."

He shook his head, "Do you even know who your true mother is?" _Do **I** even want to? Probably she is some manner of beast just as frightening._

"I only know her name, so I figure that if I travel the roads and ask of her in the towns and cities I pass that I will find information about her."

He nodded, although that would take her some time to accomplish. She studied him for a moment, but he didn't meet her gaze, as he was suddenly uncomfortable at it.

"Would you come with me?"

He dared to look in her eyes, to discern whether or not she was jesting.

They were pleading, although she had asked in an even tone—as if she didn't care one way or the other. His mind was shouting vehemently to refuse—what would happen to him if he did? What would happen to him if he didn't? She could turn herself into a _dragon_. He had seen her eat a _man_. He looked away again, so her eyes couldn't influence him. Yet, he had no desire to return home—he would only be forced to marry again, as Halden had noted—and a tiny part of him, the illogical part, was curious enough to consider her offer. He was shocked that she had even asked him such a question for she always had wanted to be left alone. He was also very unsure about helping such a girl. Despite his will, he took another look into her eyes, which were waiting for his response. He had to think it through—reason with himself before he could answer such a request.

_She seems to be the same girl regardless of her ability, and she must trust me if she was willing to show me it. She is capable of showing mercy, which is more than some humans. She was the one who saved me from being murdered by my cousin—so I must be of some value to her. _They were all valid arguments but then his mind clicked with the deepest realization.

_She is letting me begin to **know **__her._

"Do you mean it?"

The girl with green eyes stared at him for a moment—perhaps seeing who he truly was and took a deep breath. "Yes." She said it quickly and decisively. "Yes, I mean it."

"Well then," he pulled himself up and dusted off the dried mud stuck to his breeches, "in that case, I will."

* * *

A/N: That's how Ms. Velde ended her story, but this is not the end of mine. New chapter will be up soon :D


	13. Sudden Simmering Summer

They walked carefully and quietly through the unfamiliar wood.

"So where are we?"

"South."

He noted how incredibly warm it was, for just early spring. The trees around them were full leaved. It also explained why the perfume of magnolias was so strong.

"Do you know how far?"

She sighed, "I wasn't very much paying attention to _where_ I was going—my main concern was putting enough space between you and your horrid cousin."

_So she didn't eat him_, he thought with a disappointment.

His fingered his neck, remembering the dread that was coursing through him at that moment the dagger was pressed against it—his throat would have well been bleeding out by now if it weren't for her.

"Thank you."

She halted her steps and turned to look at him—considering him. Eventually she continued forward—eventually she said, "You're welcome."

She had saved his life thrice over—by leading him home in the forest, from his cousin, and from the bandits—he seemed to be so inconvenient for her. Then again, if he was such a bother, she would have surely told him to go away.

There was so much he wanted to ask her, to get to know her but still the fact she was not entirely human unnerved him. It was something that was only real in the legends of old—things like her weren't _supposed _to exist.

"You're going to act differently toward me now," she mentioned, seeming annoyed. She didn't look at him and said while staring ahead.

"Of course I am. I saw you _eat_ someone."

She stopped walking, and faced him—looking quite stricken, "Jaythen, I would never eat _you_."

"How can I trust your word?"

She furrowed her brow and placed her hands on her hips and pressed her lips together, "You sure seemed to trust me before I showed you what I can do—you followed me through the forest for a whole day! You told everyone you wanted to _marry_ me. Besides, _you're the_ one who said you wanted to know me."

"Yes, I wanted to know things like your favorite color, about your life, or what you often dream about—I didn't expect you to change into a beast of myth!"

She let her arms drop, seeing she had made a mistake letting him know her true nature.

"Besides you were a dragon the _whole time_ and you never even mentioned it—you were lying all along."

Now she was angry, "I wasn't _lying_. You never _asked_!"

"What am I supposed to _ask_? 'Avalyn, do you happen to be a dragon?'" he shouted incredulously, "_Who does that_?"

She actually stomped her foot at his remark, "I am _not_ a dragon. I just can _turn_ myself into one—and it's not like this is all _my_ fault. If you would have paid the slightest bit of attention, then you would have known that I wasn't _normal_." She crossed her arms and turned her back on him. "A serpent in the grass would have to bite you before you ever even knew it was there."

He opened his mouth to retort, but he realized the truth of what she spoke. The way the wolf had fled from her, her appetite must have had something to do with her nature, and many other oddities—her lack of clothes at times, her uncharacteristic violence that one afternoon, and that scar—Halden _had_ struck the dragon—he had struck _her_, and that is why she returned with blood all over her clothes.

He took a long inhale of breath, "Forgive me, it's just a lot for me to take in." He glanced at her but her back was still turned at him. "I don't pay attention—the _right_ attention. I was too worried about my own problems to notice yours."

He held his temples as if they ached. His mind was jumbled, and his head still hurt from when it was knocked against the tree branch.

"For the record," she said softly and he peered at her through his fingers—she was not facing him fully, but starting to turn around with her profile in view. She finally looked at him in his eye, "My favorite color is blue."

---

The sun was actually causing enough heat for sweat to form on Jaythen's skin. It didn't help that he was dressed for a mid-northern early spring when it was near summer wherever they were at—_south_. The dried mud did nothing to help the unhygienic feeling creeping over him.

"You should probably get washed at the next pond we pass," Avalyn noticed his stench and his uncomfortable fidgeting.

"Pond?"

"Or river, or lake—whichever comes first."

"Why not bathe at an inn or some other establishment?"

She considered his remark before grinning "Is your lordship afraid to bathe in a natural setting?"

"What? No—I—just never have before—it's uncivilized."

Her brows rose, and he realized she had probably bathed in nothing _but _ponds and creeks for most of her life. He wasn't afraid to bathe in a pond but he did have the fear of angering her. He quickly cleared his throat, "But not to say it isn't a charming endeavor." She outwardly laughed at his lame attempt to cover his insult—not seeming insulted at all–-but amused.

On second thought, coming across an inn would be rather miraculous where they were, right in the middle of southern wilderness. He wished he knew _where_ they were besides a simple direction.

Avalyn stopped walking, her head turned—listening for something. He couldn't help but to grow nervous—were there more bandits?

"There's water in that direction."

"How do you know?"

"Pay _attention_."

He stopped talking and tried—finally hearing the sounds of running water. They drew closer and found a small stream of water.

"That's too small to bathe in—"

"Have you never been in the wilderness before? Small water always leads to bigger water. I'm sure if we follow this it will lead to a lake or pond, maybe even the sea!"

"Have you been to the Sea before?"

"I'm not sure."

"How can you not be sure?"

"I've seen it in my dreams but I know not whether it was because I has seen it in reality or only have read about it—I used to go many different places while with my mother, the Sea could have been one of them.

Although it was none of his business, he had a burning curiosity towards Avalyn's childhood and what she could remember—which seemed to be a lot though she gave hardly any of it away. With a memory like hers, he would suspect she would have known if her mother was wealthy or not. She had said she didn't remember—which was her only putting off the true answer because she didn't trust him.

He wouldn't mention these thoughts to her, not until they were more at ease with one another. The creek line was growing with tall strands of grass, all the way to their knees. The croaking of frogs and the chirps of birds were heard all around them, creating a symphony of nature with the rhythm of the water leading the whole song.

"Ah hah!" he heard her shout with satisfaction, he jumped back a bit with startlment. She had stopped and was looking through some bushes that the creek was running under. He came to her side and also peered at what she was looking at—a good-sized body of water. Rock forms were poised around the other side, making the water sounds echo off of them.

"Here, give me your clothes so I can wash them while you bathe here," she pinched the material of his shirt between her fingers.

"Excuse me?"

"Unless you want to wash your own clothes,"

He had never washed his own clothes in his life. Was there a proper way to do it? He stood for a moment, thinking of what to do but then nodded apprehensively. He pulled his shirt off and handed it to her. Then he stepped behind the bushes to take off the rest so she wouldn't have to look at his nakedness. He threw off his boots and unlaced the front of his breeches. He was struggling removing his long legs from the pair of breeches though and hopped around a bit trying to tug them off. He heard a giggle from behind him and jumped around in surprise but fell off balance to the rocky shore.

Avalyn's giggling only escalated and his face flushed red with mortification.

"What are you doing!?" he cried, finally yanking his breeches off and throwing them to her.

"I was making sure you were alright, because you were making the most strangest of grumbling sounds."

He stood up, covering himself, "I'm not decent."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," her eyes traveled down his body and snapped back to his face, "But do not forget that you've shamed my modesty before, so it's just as well yours should be shamed too."

"What are you saying? Is there something wrong?" he looked down at himself in alarm as she stepped back through the bushes. Her answer was only laughing.

He dipped a toe into the water to find it was at a decent temperature; he waded further into the wetness until it was up to his shoulders. He rubbed his face clean and then bobbed under water. He hadn't been swimming for nearly two years, for there was no time to do such activities while in the Imperial City. He and Halden swam in the lake south of Wendbury in summers past. He brought his head above the water so his chin was setting on the surface—his brow now fixed in a furrow thinking of his treacherous cousin. He had considered Halden a true friend, but now sadly realized he had no friends—no one he could truly enjoy time with and tell his thoughts to.

A sweet noise reached his ears all of a sudden, a muddled sounding song that he couldn't hear the words of. He swam towards it—wondering what it was.

There was a rock formation between him and the singing—he climbed atop it and peered over a point to see Avalyn, taking her own bathe as she wrung out his clothes of water. She was singing a song that he wasn't familiar with but her voice was rather breathtaking. The tune was a slow one and at one point she stopped singing just to hum it—then he recognized it. She had hummed it before when he had first met her.

He couldn't take his eyes off her, but not just because of her figure. She was enchanting and could have been mistaken for a water nymph with her song and her extraordinary beauty. Her hair floated in the water's surface at her waist and he almost forgot the fact that she could be a dangerous creature. His skin had dried off in the sun as he stood on the rock, and he somehow managed to tear his eyes away from her. He pressed his back against the rock and cleared his throat, "Avalyn! I'm done bathing!"

Her singing stopped—sadly to his ears—and he heard her shout, "Just come around, your clothes are drying!"

He hopped a few rocks back to the shore and kept behind the bushes, "How long until they dry?"

"However long it takes," she said from the other side. It wasn't a useful answer.

He crouched on his feet, straining his calf muscles and feeling strange at being so naked in the wilderness—he was not used to it and was not comfortable with it.

"Avalyn, if you can choose to turn into a dragon, then why do you do it at all?"

There was silence from her side and he was afraid she had left but he heard movement, she must have just been on the other side of the bush. He stood and could see that she was standing just there but the bushes were obscuring the view of her body for only her head was visible above the leaves. Magnolias were growing there as well, twisting into the bush and filling their noses with a sweet scent.

"There are a number of reasons," her gaze didn't waver as she stared at him. His head also cleared the bush so they could clearly see each other. Goosebumps crawled up his arms realizing they were both without clothes, only a foot or so apart, only separated by a thickness of leaves and flowers. _Like the Garden of Eden._

He coughed, collecting his wits before curiously prodding, "Which are?"

"I don't know if you have ever been flying but it feels amazing," her smile itself was amazing as she said it. He could see her recall the sensation by the way her eyes lit up.

He felt himself grin at the lightness in her tone, "And why else?"

Her smile faded and she tucked a piece of her damp hair behind her ear, "When I am dragon, no one dares to try and hurt me" Her expression turned to a frown "—except your idiot cousin." She looked back to him, "It's just that…I don't feel as helpless."

He nodded, understanding her reasoning, "What other reasons?"

She sank behind the bush, suddenly not wanting to face him but he still heard her voice—"It's not so much a reason but if I don't change, I start to feel angry."

There was a long pause, as if she were finding the words to explain. "It grows slowly but the longer I hold it in, the more violent I become. My body aches to transform, so that I can release the wrath that builds inside of me. I fear it, so it's just better to change once everyday so that I can be at peace with myself. I don't ever want to _hurt_ anyone though."

That was an interesting bit of information; it explained why she had been so irritated in those days after she had recovered.

He couldn't see her anymore so he went back to his crouching position, "What about your appetite? Some days you eat nothing and others you eat like a glutton."

"I do _not_ eat like a glutton," she objected.

He laughed, "Fine, you just eat more so—why is that?"

He heard her sigh, "When I do turn to dragon, I can't help but to hunt and when I eat a whole deer, it fills me up. So I am not hungry for a day or two."

"What about your clothes? Why are you always naked?"

"I'm not always naked, and you should be the one to talk. Your flesh is as plain as mine at this moment."

Her words caused him to blush and he did not ask her any further questions. At least she had revealed to why some such things were about her—he was finally getting to know her.

Something landed on him then, his clothes that were dry for the most part. As soon as he put on his shirt it was far too hot to wear so he ripped the sleeves off at the shoulders, leaving his arms bare and free. He tied up his breeches and then swiped back the bushes to see if Avalyn was ready to continue forth. She was wrapped up in his cloak. Seeing she had nothing more to wear he slipped off his shirt and offered it to her.

He turned around as she pulled it over her body. He had a long torso so the fabric hit her at her lower thigh, covering the most scandalous parts of her body.

"We should find food," Jaythen said after a rumbling of his stomach.

"I could just kill something for us to cook,"

"NO!" Jaythen shouted unintentionally, he wasn't ready for her to become the terrifying beast again—she was pleasant the way she was.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged.

His stomach rumbled, dissatisfied with his choice.


	14. Wandering to Scharberlutes

They walked for a long time, barely speaking. The silence was painful, and Jaythen didn't know what to say. He was staring at his feet and making sure not to stumble over any fallen branches or protruding rocks. Grass ended beneath his feet and he was suddenly standing on packed dirt. He looked up and glanced down a beaten path.

"This is a path!"

"To where?"

"It doesn't matter, it will lead to civilization!"

He stretched his arms behind his head with a smile, happy to be rid of that unsure feeling that he would die, lost in nature. They followed the dirt path, it was dingy and unkempt but it had to have led somewhere—a village, a settlement—somewhere where there would be other people.

"You seem rather dependant on other people," she noted from behind him.

He turned with a sudden frown, "What does that mean?"

"You can't rely on yourself for anything."

"How dare you!" his anger was sparked but it settled almost immediately when he remembered what she could be, "I mean, _why _would you accuse me of such a bleak characteristic?"

"Never mind. I will only upset you."

He stopped walking and stood in front of her so she could no longer advance, "No, you won't. Just please explain why."

She sighed, "Well, my _lord_, you act as though you would surely _die_ if you couldn't sleep or bathe or eat at a proper establishment. You don't stand up for yourself, and you rely on all types of other people to do work for you. You couldn't even stand up to your own father and so had to lie and use me because you were afraid of telling the truth."

His stare was fixed on her, angry yes, but not at her—he was angry at himself for seeming so pathetic in her eyes. He pressed his lips and darted his eyes away from hers, uncomfortable—"I don't suppose I _need_ other people, it's just always been that way."

They continued in silence, until Avalyn said quite annoyed, "This path takes too long."

He looked farther ahead and it didn't seem to end soon. He felt something hit him in the side of his head softly and grabbed his cloak and shirt in startlement. He whipped around to see what she was doing but at that moment he was lifted up from behind clasped by a dragon's talon. He clutched the clothes to his chest and shouted in terror as they rose into the air. After a few minutes of not believing it was happening, his heart beat leveled to a steady, albeit fast pace and he appreciated the wind on his face. Flying really _was_ amazing, when he wasn't busy being terrified out of his mind.

The trees transformed the landscape below them into a sea of green. He tilted his head up, seeing the dragon's chest and seeing the scars of being struck by his cousin. High above, the long neck was extended and her eyes were studying the ground below. They eventually lowered and she dropped him onto a part of the dirt path, which had become considerably wider. He rolled across the dirt because of his unsteady landing. The dragon crashed upon some bushes and disappeared entirely.

"Throw me the coverings!" he heard her shout from behind them, he did so and then after a moment of rustling around she emerged. He noticed a wooden crossroads sign up ahead and quickly drew near to read what it said.

It was ragged writing, nearly washed away from months of weathering. He finally understood it and his heart dropped entirely.

"Those brutes who we encountered before, were they wearing black boots?"

She gave him a funny look, "I suppose so, although there was much more to pay attention to than the color of their boots."

His voice dropped then, in order not to attract attention.

"You have taken us to Scharberlutes."

"What's that? What's _Scharberlutes_?" she stood behind him to study the writing on the wooden post.

"You've never heard of Scharberlutes?" he asked incredulously. She shook her head.

"They never sang you that rhyme as a child?"

She was becoming exasperated at his growing cowardice, "No! What is it?"

He shushed her immediately and took a breath before saying the rhyme that he and many other children were told when they were young, often as a reminder to never go to such a place.

"_Never wander to Scharberlutes_

_For you'll cross paths with those uncouths,_

_Who'll steal, and murder, and burn your roots_

_Beware the bandits who wear black boots"_

She gave him a look of ridicule, "What is so frightening about that?"

"There are more of them, they are an organized band of thieves and murderers. We're in Shcarberlutes—it's outside of the King's realm, it's a place where there is no law, there is no punishment—only chaos and death. They wander freely here."

She bravely smirked, not seeming at all frightened of such things, "Tell me, are mere men more deadly and chaotic than a girl that is able turn to dragon?"

He had forgotten about it again, he always seemed to put it out of his mind when she looked normal. He wasn't used to thinking of her like that—a creature. For when he looked at her, and he remembered her true nature—he would see that horrifying sight of her eating a man. Although she had a point—it was nothing but chaos and what he had considered to be his death when she had yanked him off the ground the night before. Still many men, many _dangerous_ men with a varied amount of weapons and scarred hearts were still enough to worry Jaythen, even if Avalyn could protect them.

"I hope it is not so."

She was right in saying he depended too much on others, because he was now depending on her for defense if they were to cross paths with more bandits.

---

"Why do they call it _Scharberlutes_?"

"What?" Jaythen paused in mid stride and looked back at her. She had been quiet for a while and her question caught him off guard.

"It's a funny-sounding name, I can't take it seriously."

"You very well should. If I remember correctly, the whole area was named for a magician's apprentice."

She walked hastily to his side, "Tell me the story?"

Jaythen shrugged, "I only know a little, and I don't even know if it's true."

"I don't care, it sounds entertaining."

He cleared his throat and tried to recall what his nursemaid had explained many years ago when he had asked why they named it such a silly-sounding name.

"A long time ago, there was a magician who had an apprentice named Scharber Lutes, but the magician was hard of hearing and so called him Scharberlutes to the apprentice's annoyance. They spent a great many years together and underneath his tutelage, Scharber learned a great deal of nothing and so became frustrated. He stole the magician's book of spells and ran away, to the south of the Kingdom where he met a coven of witches. The witches took an interest in Scharber and his stolen book and so they formed an agreement, he would let them use the book if they taught him real magic. Unfortunately, all they knew was black magic and so Scharber had to settle for that. In time, he grew powerful and feared and so this area was named after him."

"That's an odd tale," she shrugged.

"Like I said, it's only a story of the name origin—how the bandits with black boots formed—I do not know."

"Why does the King not do anything?"

"I suppose he doesn't want to waste time or money trying to clean the sludge of this area and taking it back into his realm"

After a few more minutes of walking, they heard a faint noise. He strained to make out it out—a constant flow of something—and then he realized it was people. A crowd of people, talking, shouting, or singing some way up ahead on the path.

He told Avalyn this, who was also listening intently, "Maybe it's a town?"

They walked at a faster pace and around the last bend in the path they came upon a market. Jaythen looked down at himself and then to her and realized they were not dressed properly for public appearance. He ushered the girl with green eyes to the side of the road, behind foliage, "I'll need my shirt back."

"What am I to wear then?" she asked indignantly.

"I will scour the market and find us better clothes, and bring them back to you."

She gave him a suspicious look but unwrapped his cloak and began to disrobe—he whirled around quickly so not to shame her modesty. Altough he had a feeling that she didn't mind being looked upon—just only when it was with hunger.

"Here," she held out his shirt in a balled white cloth and had his cloak completely wrapped around her, "Do make haste."

He nodded, and slipped his shirt on, leaving her hidden.

He started into the market, which was a vast conglomeration of show tables and caravans of the sellers. He saw a varied amount of goods as well as he scanned the tables. He had only ever been to the market in Wendbury and this was nothing like it—there was much more of a frenzy, a thrilling feeling to be in it the midst of it.

He lingered before one odd table that had human fingers aligned in a row and curiously regarded them. Were they real or replicas? And who on Earth would pay gold coin for one and why? He reached out and met his fingertip with nearest one and it bent at the joint and pointed at him. He gave a shout and leapt back, knocking into a woman. He apologized quickly and turned his attention to a cackling woman behind the table.

"Don't touch unless you're going to buy one, the fingers are quick to point out your offense."

"I'm sorry, but are they real fingers?"

"Yes, I cut them off of lost travelers."

Jaythen felt his stomach twist and he made a face, "What is this place?"

The woman gaped and then cackled again, "Pretty boy, you have wandered to the traveling market of Scharberlutes—the finest place to find anything you could want."

"_Who_ wants chopped human fingers?"

"Witches of course. They use them for seeking spells."

He swallowed and nodded, crunching his own fingers so they were hidden in his hand—now making a fist. He took quick leave of the disgusting display and moved forward through the market.

So not only was he to be wary of the bandits with black boots but now also witches—whom he supposed to only further contaminate the area, this godforsaken realm of black magic.

He finally found a shop stall of garments and stepped through, looking for something that would fit him, and something for Avalyn.

"Can I help you lad?" a woman found him poking around and asked.

"How much for this?" he pulled out a proper linen shirt and a long vest with buckles.

"A song."

"A song?"

"Yes, I collect the currency of song like most vendors."

"But I only have gold coin…"

Her eyes lightened, "Well that's even better."

He narrowed his eyes, suspecting her of lunacy. "I would also like a dress for a lady friend."

She nodded and led him around the display to a rack of very immodest lady outfits, he blushed thinking of Avalyn wearing them—"I think you mistook me when I said 'lady friend', I need a decent garment for her, not one that will amuse just I."

"Ah," the lady shrugged and led him to another rack. There were a few gowns that he would daresay put Develin's work to shame but Avalyn needed something to travel in, not a pretty thing with flounces to drag her down. He ended up grabbing a green dress, with a deep forest green bodice embroidered with intricate designs. The madam vendor quoted that the worth of two songs converted to sixty gold coin. He counted the pieces out and handed them to her. She held the skirt of her dress out, and told him to drop them in the pocket it created. He did so, still giving her a look like she was out of her mind, but she didn't care—only happily bid him farewell.

He made his way back through the crowd, clutching the new clothes to his chest.

"Boy!"

He turned slightly, wondering if it was he who was being addressed.

"Yes you!"

"What?" he turned around and was facing a table occupied with many glass vials filled with liquids every color he could imagine.

"You look like you could use some of my goods."

"What do you mean? What are your 'goods'?" he frowned.

"Potions!"

"I think not, good day," he kept his frown and turning his back to leave, seeing he had been reeled in to purchase something more.

"But, but I have a potion for everything! Love potion, power potion, healing potion, hair growth potion—"

He halted and spun around, "Hair growth potion—?"

The apothecary smiled, seeing the lad was intrigued, "Oh yes, it will give you long beautiful locks and a full beard—"

"I'll take it!" Jaythen bristled with excitement, not even questioning the credibility of the goods, they could have been filled with dyed water for all he knew.

"The hair growth potion is only available if you buy the set though," the apothecary slyly held up his hand and pointed to a holder that held about eight potions.

"Robbery!" Jaythen spat.

"Three songs and it is yours."

Jaythen balked—song really was the main currency they used—it didn't make a lick of sense.

He really did want the hair-growth potion—he wanted to grow facial hair! He doubted he had enough gold coin to cover the worth of three songs. Then an idea struck him suddenly, "I will return shortly for those, and you shall have your songs."

He quickly tried to find his way back to the foliage he had left Avalyn. When he found her, she was sitting in the grass and drawing shapes in the dirt with the edge of a stick she had found.

"That took you long enough," she snapped.

He gave her the dress, "Sorry I didn't think about getting you undergarments."

She twisted her lips in disappointment but took her dress and went to don it.

Jaythen threw off his shirt and tried on the new one, clasping the vest over it. The vest felt light but was made of hard material. She stepped out from behind the foliage and spun around, to he was staring at her back. She pointed to the loose ties of the bodice, "Lace this up."

He took the strings of her bodice and tied them tightly, crossed up her back and secured it in place.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"What?"

"There, back in the market there were these potions for sale and they cost three songs—"

"They cost _what_?"

"They use songs as currency, I don't know why but these potions I speak of cost three songs and you have a beautiful singing voice—"

"How do you know?" she frowned.

He blushed, realizing she did not know he had been spying on her while she bathed, he didn't meet her gaze and and answered in a half-truth, "I heard you when I was bathing."

Her cheeks flushed ever so slightly in embarrassment, "I don't sing in front of _people_."

"Why not? Your voice is enchanting," he tried for flattery but she simply frowned and crossed her arms stubbornly. "Please Avalyn?" he clasped his hands together and nearly begged.

"We'll see. Take me into the market and I shall decide."

* * *

A/N: Jaythen must really want to grow facial hair. Also, I've made visuals of Avalyn and Jaythen! If you want to see them, they're linked on my profile page on the 2nd 'click here'. Hope you enjoyed. :D


	15. Market Affairs

The first thing that was apparent as they entered the market place was that Avalyn turned heads. He assumed that it was because of her strange beauty. Avalyn didn't seem to notice or care of the people's stares however, just regarded everything around her with caution.

"Why do you want these potions so badly? What do they do?"

He pretended not to hear her—not wanting to explain his desperate desire to grow facial hair. He just reasoned that he couldn't consider himself a man until he had a beard or other manner of whiskers growing on his chin.

Avalyn did not repeat her question, instead she stopped walking, and they caught a delicious smell.

Both the young lord and the girl with green eyes found the origin of the smell at a vendor's stand—and they looked upon a spread of baked goods.

"What will you have Dearies?" the lady behind the stand asked cheerfully.

"I want those tarts," Avalyn pointed at a row of about eight. They were dainty-looking pastries filled with what looked like raspberries or strawberries.

"They be a singsong a piece."

Jaythen was about to tell Avalyn, he could offer gold coin instead but Avalyn went ahead and opened her mouth and started to singsong a short folk lullaby that he recognized for his nursemaid had sung to him when he was younger. He wondered if she had lied to him about singing in front of people, or perhaps she was so desperate to eat that she didn't care anymore.

The lady hurriedly opened a jar and held it out near Avalyn's head, seeming to try and catch the singsong. Jaythen watched in a puzzled manner all the while. Avalyn sang seven more little nursery tales that were commonly heard and the lady opened seven more jars for each singsong.

"Those are a lovely quality, go ahead and take an extra for your pretty boy there!" The lady gathered up the ones Avalyn wasn't stuffing in her mouth and put them in a kerchief for her. Avalyn held one out for Jaythen, which he took quickly in fear she would eat it as soon as she was done chewing the one currently in her mouth. She must have not yet had the chance to hunt for herself since the night before and was growing ravenous.

He swallowed his own tart in one bite, since it was so small. They began to walk further through the market.

"I wonder what use or value the songs are to these traders?"

Avalyn shrugged between stuffing her mouth with tarts, "I have no idea but it is worlds easier to come by than gold."

Jaythen spotted the potion apothecary from before through the crowd and grabbed Avalyn's wrist, hurrying them over to see if the hair growth potion was still available.

"Sir! Sir! I have returned! Does your offer still stand? Is the product still here?" he asked eagerly.

The old man grinned, "Why yes, you're lucky—hair growth potion is a fast seller."

Avalyn stopped crunching on a tart, hearing those words and stared at Jaythen incredulously.

"Har grof pochin?" A tart was still in her mouth and obscured her speech; tiny bits fell out of her mouth as she spoke. He would have openly laughed at her if he weren't depending on her to sing.

"There are others," He avoided the subject and pointed at the rest of the set.

She rolled her eyes and swallowed, running her tongue over her teeth to rid them of sticky, berry filling, "You want me to sing for hair growth potion? You have hair Jaythen!"

"But I can't grow it on my face!"

"Why would you want that? It seems itchy, unruly, and hot."

"I just _need_ this. You could never understand," He raised his brows in sheer pleading. The apothecary cackled out in amusement at their banter.

She wiped her hands together to rid them of crumbles and straightened up, "Very well, I do not understand your silly boyish obsession but nonetheless, you will owe me a favor in return."

He sighed in respite and she closed her eyes, starting a song. He enjoyed hearing her and noticed that many people stopped in awe at her sweet tone. The apothecary gave them looks that told them if they tried to steal her song, he would force-feed them the vilest of concoctions. When she was finished with the first she stopped.

"Oh, you can put them all in this one," the apothecary smiled pointing to the jar he was already holding. She shrugged and started another, and then a next one.

There was a considerable amount of market goers that had stopped around them to just hear Avalyn sing, not even taking out their own jars and trying to contain it.

"So, that's three songs. May I have the potions now?"

The apothecary brought the set forward, "These potions only have enough use for one person, and for the desired affect, one must drink _every drop_ or else it won't do anything."

"They will work though, right?" The thought of credibility had just entered his head. He was buying _magic potions _from a market in _Scharberlutes_ after all—quite a shaded affair to anyone inside the King's realm.

The apothecary twisted his lips in offense, "What kind of man do you take me to be? Of course my goods will work!"

Jaythen held out his hands to calm the man. He grabbed up the holder. Which folded into a sort of knapsack, conveniently. He dug through it, clinking the glass vials together before finding a blue colored potion with the 'hair growth' label tied to a string around the neck of it.

"I'm hungry," Avalyn sighed.

"You just ate though," He pointed out.

"Eight tarts are nothing close to a full deer," her tone was annoyed, which he became nervous at.

He put the vial back into the knapsack and took her arm, "Alright, let's find you something more fulfilling then. They say this is a market you can find _anything_ in." He threw the sack over his shoulder and led her through the crowd, looking for food. They must have been in a weapons section of the market for all the tables were filled with bows, arrows, knives, swords and other manners of objects used to hunt or kill.

Avalyn stumbled into him suddenly. He looked to her and she was holding her head as if it ached.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know. There is something in the air that irritates my senses—but I don't know what."

He let her arm go, "I'll find you something to eat. Stay here and don't move around too much."

He wandered away but only got as far as one of the sword vendors, distracted at the fine weapons. He had been taught to sword fight while in the imperial City—although he didn't own a sword of his own.

"Ya take an interest in weapons laddie?"

"I'm admiring your swords—" He brushed his fingers over a matte steel short sword.

"What are ye planning to kill exactly?"

"Nothing really. I don't find pleasure in killing things—only out of need to protect myself."

"A sword like that won't protect you from everything," the vendor nodded to the sword Jaythen was touching. Jaythen knotted his eyebrows in confusion and turned his stare to the man.

"I'm sure if it is handled right—"

"The fey creatures don't fear a paltry steel weapon, boy—you need something of iron to protect yourself from the likes of them." The man leaned forward and said with a hint of warning.

"Why iron?"

"Iron poisons fey."

"Still, I doubt I will have any quarrels with a creature of fey—they are not to be seen anymore."

"Oh they are around, mark me. They could be in this very market. They be a slippery bunch and if you kill one, you can retire from life for each part of their body is drenched in magic and every witch, apothecary, and merchant in this area and in the realm would pay an exorbitant amount of wealth to get their hands on a piece."

Jaythen considered the man's words, not having known so much about fey or their value. He nodded politely and took leave without a sword—he couldn't afford one any way. He turned around to see Avalyn and saw she was talking with someone, their back was toward him.

He backtracked a few steps to see what was happening. Talking to a stranger in Scharberlutes was probably not a good idea.

"You have the loveliest singing voice I have ever heard at this market."

The speaker was a man, older—probably about Halden's age or some more. He had his arms crossed so that his back full of muscle was evident to those looking.

"That's very kind of you," Avalyn smiled politely, but still held her head in her hands from irritation.

"You also, are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen at this market," he reached up and dared stroke the side of her face. She tensed and Jaythen inwardly gagged at this fellow's attempt to flirt. Avalyn quickly caught his hand in a fast grip, apparently not taking well to his touch.

"Thank you. Those are kind words as well, Sir. Now if you will excuse me I shall continue on my way." She brushed past him and Jaythen took her arm once more.

"Food?" She raised a brow; and upon seeing he had none became annoyed that he had not gotten any for her.

The fellow scoffed at once, seeing her leave with the young lord, "You deny me for this whelp? Such a lass as you deserves a _real_ man."

Jaythen whirled around angrily, "You think me not a man? How dare you!"

Avalyn held his arm tightly, to keep him from making a mistake.

The fellow only grinned, "Aye, me and my men could chop you into little bits before you had time to grow a proper beard."

Jaythen's rage smoldered, knowing he was right in buying that hair growth potion, but he heeded the comment and he glanced down at the fellow's feet.

_Black boots_.

Avalyn saw Jaythen's concern and pulled him away. They left the fellow in a run, and they dodged through the crowd of market-goers to get away. He called for his men though, a shrill whistle heard above the heads of everyone. Avalyn kept her attention ahead and Jaythen watched the feet of those they were running through. He saw black boots and a pair of rough hands caught him by the straps in his vest. He shouted, as Avalyn's grip slid away but she turned quickly, threw back her arm in a fist and punched the man holding the young lord, in the side of his face. She was hungry, she was annoyed, and she was in the mood to be violent. The man staggered and she took hold of Jaythen's arm once more, "Hurry up!"

The bandits with black boots must have been numerous in the market because many were pursuing them, but always out of reach for the thick crowd delayed their advances.

Avalyn dug her feet into the ground to stop herself from being grabbed, for there was a bandit just in front of her. Jaythen pulled her then, into another direction for there was a bandit just behind him. It seemed they were closing in.

"Move! Move out of the way!" Jaythen shouted in desperation. The people in front of him tried their best but it was clearly too dense to be caught up in a chase at the market. In desperation, Jaythen grabbed a sword out of its holder next to a vendor, in order to protect them. He spun, and in that motion threw the girl with green eyes behind him and pointed the sharp sword at anyone trying to advance. It was the fellow who came upon them, and after a moment of surprise drew his own sword and began to clash it against Jaythen's. After a few moments of fight, the fellow bested Jaythen, clattered his sword heavily over the young lord's and kept it down. He was very ready to strike the lad dead.

"Stop!" Avalyn shouted, stepping forward. Jaythen withdrew his sword, in fear of accidentally striking her. The bandit kept his drawn and it was dangerously pointed under her jaw, just like Jaythen's dagger the first moment he had met her. Her eyes were unwavering, burning in frustration as she stared at the bandit, "Lower your sword, Sir."

"You dare order _me_? I am the great-great-great-great grandson of Scharber Lutes, the great grandson of Rebbis Lutes—founder of the bandits who wear black boots. I am Schar Lutes—" He tightened his grip on his sword's handle, "No one gives me _orders_."

His group of bandits had reached them and surrounded them. There was no way they were going to get through alive. Avalyn's stone face twitched into an unexpected smile, which surprised both men on either side of her.

She reached up and unclasped her necklace, throwing it to Jaythen who caught it with a look of puzzlement. She turned around, indicating the fellow should untie the laces of her bodice. He looked as if he were mistaken but then acquired a sly smile and happily obliged. She stared at Jaythen while her garment became loose under the fellow's fingers. Jaythen shook his head in bewilderment at her, but she told him nothing, not even with her eyes. A moment ago the bandit was going to kill them and now she was letting him undress her!

Now, more than ever before, Jaythen did not understand her.

She pulled away from the fellow, unwrapping herself from her garment slowly, twisting out of the dress—which she also threw to Jaythen when she was free of it. He knew then that if she did have modesty then she would not have been standing bare in front of so many men. She was puzzling and yet gorgeous, hard to look away from. He shook his head, inwardly chiding himself for doing so though. In order to not be further distracted he looked at anywhere but at her.

All the men around him had their attentions very preoccupied with her though; all their weapons were lowered and their mouths were slack with dumbstruck smiles. He sighed and shoved her dress into the knapsack, wondering why she was giving the bandits who wore black boots such a good show before death—unless the one to die was just _he. _Perhaps she was saving herself from being killed—they could use her—although the thought of all those men with her made him feel nauseous, and overwhelmingly angry.

He felt something small hit him and protested before looking at his feet where he saw her ring. He picked it up and brushed it off—was this it? Was she leaving and letting him to perish at the hands of the treacherous bandits? Had he annoyed her so much that she didn't care either way?

Suddenly there was a change in the vicinity—a heart stopping noise followed by a rush of wind, which could have only been one thing.

_ She turned dragon_, he looked up just in time to see a talon engulf him. He clutched the sword to his chest and the ring in his palm and he was lifted and there were hundreds of terrified screams below. Avalyn beat her wings heavily, getting the most out of the air—pushing away from the market in fast flight.

After letting his heart settle, and praying in thanks to still being alive, he looked up at the golden dragon and couldn't help but to laugh silently, _well-done, sly girl. Your distraction saved us both._

---

Evening started to bleed into the light of the sky, drenching it in darker hues of pink, purple, blue, and black. He started to feel moisture droplets hit him from above—it was starting to rain. Avalyn lowered into a wooded area, where she let him off to steady ground. She did not transform, instead her long dragon body curled up around him. One of her wings unfolded and covered over his head, so the rain hit it and slid off, keeping him dry—it was like being inside a large tent.

He figured she meant for them to stay like that until it finished raining. He had grown quite tired and he was starving—only having eaten a tart so far since the dinner the night before. He sunk to the ground that was dry, only because of her overhead wing, and lay against the dragon's side. She was surprisingly warm. He always thought such a hide on a creature looked cold and uninviting. He adjusted his cloak so it was in front of him—covering him in a makeshift blanket. He could hear her heart beating through her scaled body. It was steady and it eased his troubled mind. She had saved him again, and for that he was grateful. He blinked a couple times before nodding off to sleep, listening to the rhythm of great creature's heartbeat.


	16. A Morose Morning

The sun was shining in his eyes again. Even though his eyelids were closed, the brightness shone through enough to ease him out of sleeping. The ground was hard and his back ached terribly, not used to such meager comfort. He opened an eye and glanced at his surroundings. Neither a human nor dragon Avalyn was seen.

He started up but wished it hadn't been so fast because he felt dizzy from the motion.

"Avalyn!" He called into the daylight. He stood fully, glancing for any sign of her. She was gone.

"Avalyn!?"

He took the time to crack knots out of his muscles that had formed overnight by stretching his arms behind his head and after a few moments, a shadow fell across him and he looked up to see the dragon, flying overhead. He was relieved that she had not left him for good, but apprehensive of her flying above him. She held something in her claws and dropped it. He shouted in horror and jumped back from a landed elk carcass. Its body was ripped in half and its blood had stained its coat of fur.

The dragon landed, stirring up loose dirt around them. He eyed her cautiously; knowing the girl with green eyes was somewhere within but yet still fearful of her mighty form. Her claw landed over the carcass and the head of the beast came down and ripped an entire leg of the elk away, gulping it down between thrashing chews.

_God, she eats the same way in either form_, he noted, reminded of the way she gobbled the tarts. He forced himself to stop staring because it was making his stomach weak.

He turned around, trying to discern where he was—the air was back to being colder and it meant they were, thankfully, probably far from Scharberlutes.

"Do you want some elk?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin and turned to regard her, although she was naked so he kept turning—out of a chivalrous habit—ending up facing the way he had started out. He found himself to be feeling rather grumpy that morning, due to being hungry and uncomfortable.

"Do you always sneak up on people?" He snapped. His stomach gave a loud gurgling rumble to answer her question when he didn't.

He heard her huff, and only reply, "I'll fire it for you."

What could have only been the sound of growing bones and muscles, sounded from behind him. The dragon breathed a stream of fire at a large bush, igniting it in flames and then threw the remainder of the elk onto it. She didn't change back, just plopped down on her hind legs and waited for it to cook—all the while watching him.

He scratched the side of his face and in that motion, was reminded of its smoothness. He anxiously grabbed up the knapsack from where he had slept and found the vial that held the blue liquid inside. He tugged the stopper out of the opening and drank the potion. It tasted like blueberries.

He took in a breath, closed his eyes and waited for it to happen—for a beard to instantly grow. The dragon watched for it too but after a few moments of nothing, she yawned and lay down, her head set onto her folded claws with disinterest.

Jaythen looked into the bottle to see if there were any extra drops he hadn't drank, but the bottle was purely empty. An anger grew within him and he threw the bottle to the ground with all his might. It crashed into hundreds of little pieces. His shoulders heaved as he took in angry breaths.

"He tricked me!"

She regarded his shout, but only for a moment before standing and pulling the elk off of the fire with her mouth. It lay on the ground with heavy steam rising off of it.

"That scoundrel swindled me!" Jaythen was still furious and in a tantrum at the fact he wasn't growing a beard.

The dragon stepped behind him while he glared into nothing.

"Perhaps it serves you right, trying to make yourself into something you're not."

He didn't appreciate her sass or the way she silently returned to her human shape. He twisted around to see her grab her dress up from the knapsack and cover herself quickly—seeing in turn, that he was staring upon her. She coughed and gave him a prodding look.

"What?"

"Turn around."

"_Why_?"

"So I can get dressed," she rolled her eyes as if he was the dumbest boy in the world.

"What difference does it make? You got naked for the bandits—you can stop pretending that you have any modesty," He was suddenly irked at the fact she had done it, no matter if the action had saved them. If she had been a regular girl, not one that could turn to dragon—the action would have been stupid and dangerous. Now she was urging him to look away as if she was a shy, innocent maiden. He would daresay she was acting like a minx.

Her brows set in a deep frown at his remark, "I did so because I knew they would become distracted by looking at me—_you _always seem to be distracted when I am not clothed."

He felt self-conscious at her accusation and averted his stare to disprove it.

"No matter, I saved us."

"Why didn't you just turn dragon in the first place?"

Again she looked at him as though he was the dumbest boy in the world, "If I would have transformed outright, I would have destroyed my garments and I did not want the hassle of trying to find new ones after everything was done."

"What? Is that why you are always undressed?"

"If it doesn't escape your attention—which wouldn't surprise me if it did—a dragon cannot _fit _into a dress."

He did turn around finally to give her privacy from his eyes and she did don her green dress, leaving the back of the bodice untied, as her arms couldn't reach all the way up her back to tie them. Her long hair hid the fact that the back of it was open though, covering her skin. She did not even ask him to tie the laces like she had before.

"That elk should be about cool enough for you to eat," she brushed past him, indifferently—annoyed again—but this time he was the cause.

He nodded and broke off some of the burnt meat from the inside of the creature. He was not used to this kind of living—the hard ground, the half mangled meal, the near-death experiences, and the girl who could be dragon.

He bit off pieces from the bigger one, glad to at least have food. His stomach felt better, after consuming the cooked meat.

When he was finished he looked toward Avalyn, who was sitting on the ground in a sulking manner—perhaps contemplating if it would best to just eat him and be rid of him. She had done so much for him in the past two days that he didn't know if he could ever repay her. It didn't help that through his grouchiness he seemed ungrateful.

That thought of payment reminded him of his dwindling gold coin pouch—money was never a concern for Jaythen. He always had it and if he didn't, he could always get more. He opened the pouch and counted thirty-five gold pieces.

"So what now?" he asked.

She snapped out of her annoyed contemplation and considered his question. Her head tilted ever so slightly as she regarded him, caused her hair to fall over her shoulder, "I am going to find my mother."

"Right," he nodded, though the method to find the woman she had spoken of would take months—just wandering from town to town and asking her mother's name, "Can you remember anything of the places you went? Perhaps that would be a start—to go there and ask around to where your mother had gone next."

Her head stayed at its angle as she contemplated his thought. After a few moments she licked her lips as if they were dry, and her voice had a waver he wasn't used to, "I remember a water fountain we used to play around, it was all white and had a figure of a lady bearing water."

Jaythen knew that fountain; he had passed it many times while in the Imperial City.

"The Aquarius Fountain."

Her eyes widened at once, "Where is it?"

_"Where is it?"_

_ "Wendbury?"_

_ "I've never been there."_

_ Jaythen looked down to his lap, where Nicolette's head lay, and she stared back up to him expectantly. He was sitting on the ledge of the Aquarius Fountain with Nicolette laying into him. It was a hot summer day in July and they didn't feel like moving. Although he was supposed to report back to his lessons soon, he was only on a short break—and thankfully the princess was free in her time as well. They seemed fated to be together during those moments._

_ "Wendbury is a city, of substantial size, a fortnight northwest of this one."_

_ "I've had dresses bought for me from the dressmaker that lives there."_

_ "Devlin?" Jaythen laughed, just a little homesick at the mention of it, "I would be surprised if royalty such as yourself didn't own one of his gowns."_

_ "I love them. Remember the red one I wore when I first met you?"_

_ How could he forget? He nodded in affirmation._

_ "That one, was one of his."_

_ He absently played with locks of her hair and craned his neck back to study the white marble figure of the Madame Aquarius. Water pumped out of the jug she held over her shoulders into a suspended bowl that contained many holes so the water, in turn streamed out of those into the main pool. He stuck his hand in the water, relishing the coolness on his skin as opposed to the sweltering sun. Without thought, he playfully swished a handful of water out of the pool and onto the princess. She screamed and shot up—shocked that he would do such a thing to her._

_ She took note of his unapologetic smile and then smiled herself, pushing into him, so he fell over the ledge and into the fountain._

_ "I have to go to back to lessons soon!"_

_ "Then I suggest you get dry."_

_ He charged out of the fountain suddenly very soggy and rushed at her. She screamed in surprise, picked up her skirts and started off in a run. He gladly chased her. They both knew it was scandalous to be running around together like so, for the gardens were a public place, meant to be shared with the entire city—they were in danger to be seen by anyone but yet no one was in the gardens on such a hot day._

_She ran all way to the orchard and tried hiding behind the many trees but she was wearing a bright blue dress and was easy to spot between the green. He finally caught up to her, grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her waist and they tumbled to the ground—he getting her wet by pressing against her, causing her to squeal and he laughing all the while._

_ They stopped rolling when he laid over her and gave a quick kiss to her lips. He sighed pleasantly, despite the wetness that drenched him, and looked upon her—his princess who he so dearly loved. She was panting, perspiring, and her auburn hair was tousled and spread out about her shoulders and he could see that she enjoyed their play as much as he._

_ "Please do not ever leave me," she laughed and reached up to wipe away his wet locks of hair that had fallen across his brow and stuck there._

_ "As long as you never leave me."_

"Jaythen!"

He shook his head, all the images of the princess and their tomfoolery at the Aquarius Fountain fleeting from his mind. How silly of them to wish each other not to leave when it would be inevitable. _She left me first though_, he thought bitterly.

"Well?" Avalyn's lips were pressed, her face in a frown. Apparently his grouchiness had rubbed off on her.

"What?"

"Where is this fountain you claim to know?"

He felt guilt all of a sudden, losing his concentration to Nicolette—who didn't even love him anymore, who wasn't even _there_—when he was trying to be of aid to the girl with green eyes.

He cleared his throat, "It's in the center of the gardens in the Imperial City."

Avalyn bit her lip with a mild, unspoken worry, and receded into her thoughts once more.

He didn't dare let himself think of the girl that had broken his heart. So he thought of other things—but they only saddened him. Halden's betrayal, his father's death, his growing worry that they would have to beg for proper food and lodgings once they reached a town. He looked to Avalyn who was concentrated too hard on a deep thought and so had remained silent for a long moment.

"I don't think you've ever told me your mothers name yet," he said, just to get her to talk again. That, and he was genuinely curious.

She sighed, "She called herself by many names to the people we came across, I don't know why—"

"So you don't know her true name?"

Her eyes snapped onto him in a green blaze, "Of course I do."

"Then what is it?" He didn't understand why she was so touchy about it.

She pulled out the silver chain of her necklace from the under the neckline of her dress and twirled it, not focused on him but the amethyst jewel set in the amulet that dangled there—the one her mother gave her. She seemed to debate whether or not to tell him. She never had liked sharing information about her mother and he wondered why she kept such matters bottled up inside of her. What would it accomplish?

He shook his head, wishing she would open up to him—although, he had been acting in an idiotic manner all morning and didn't deserve such a privilege. He began to move away with regret in his mind but stopped seeing her straighten her posture from the corner of his eye. Perhaps she would tell him after all.

"Alys," She said it fast, decidedly, and with it, a flicker of unnamable emotion shot through her emerald eyes before disappearing just like a shooting star would across the night sky.

* * *

A/N: So it finally you know how it ties in, it only took 16 chapters! Who didn't see that coming? Who did or even suspected? I'd like to think I was writing mysteriously but if it was obvious from the beginning then... oh well at least there are still other mysteries to be solved in later chapters. ;)


	17. Along the Way

Jaythen counted the days it took to travel to the Imperial City by making a hatch mark into the sole of one of his boots with the sword he had accidentally stolen from Scharberlutes.

On the day of third hatch mark, they found an inn on the side of a road meant for travelers. He was achy and had only been able to eat what Avalyn had caught and shared, so the inn seemed like paradise to him when he stepped over the threshold.

"Good day," the innkeeper called from the common room, it was empty.

"Good day," Jaythen nodded, reminded that he wouldn't be known as the young lord that he was, wearing the clothes he was wearing, looking as ragged as he appeared. He was somebody else completely—just as he always had wanted—yet he couldn't find a happiness within him to celebrate the wish come true.

Avalyn stepped in behind him and she had been in one of her moods since they had fled Scharberlutes—but he didn't know why since she had turned to dragon many times since, so it could not be attributed to the pent up anger of being trapped in human form for too long.

"What price is a room?" He asked the innkeeper.

The innkeeper was a middle-aged man with a beard that Jaythen could be envious of. He wiped his hands on the legs of his breeches and stood from where he was sitting, "10 silver coin, and you get a free breakfast. I make the best eggs in this area of the realm."

"What part of the realm are we in?"

Neither of the travelers had known for they had seen no signs along the road that indicated their exact whereabouts.

"The Eastern Highlands."

Jaythen nodded, somewhat disheartened—they were still far from the Imperial City, and even farther from Wendbury. He would have liked to pay for board in song but knew that was only nonsense accepted in Scharberlutes. He extracted five gold pieces from his money pouch—the value of ten silver ones and paid the man. He led them up the stairs to the last door in the hallway.

"This is a good room, all the way in the back so any noises won't be heard by other people," the innkeeper grinned and unlocked the door with one of the keys off a ring of many—although, there were no other people to speak of.

Avalyn and Jaythen gave the innkeeper a baffled look at his remark but then Jaythen blushed, realizing his insinuation. It would only be assumed they would be husband and wife since they had no chaperones and she was wearing a ring on her finger.

"Thank you," Jaythen said and entered. Avalyn had stepped in before him.

"Let me know if you need anything at all," the innkeeper mentioned before taking leave.

Jaythen only nodded and then closed the door behind him.

"There's only one bed," Avalyn stated coldly, looking at the single, wide frame.

"Of course there is, he thinks we're married."

She flipped around with startlement, and a hint of exasperation, "Not _this _again."

He unbuckled the straps of his vest, just to take it off and rest a little. They had been walking for days, only to stop when they slept, ate, or relieved themselves.

"Would you rather have him think that you're my lady of the night? Because if we're not married, then you are my whore," he shrugged as he sat on a chair to pull off his boots, "I don't know about you but I'd rather be viewed as respectable."

"I don't want to be married, and I _don't_ want to be a whore," she crossed her arms in a frustrated manner.

"Then what do you want to be?" he snapped, growing weary of her mood.

She fell to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, "I want to be normal."

He then realized that when she had said that she didn't want to be who she was, she had meant that she didn't _want_ to be a girl that could turn dragon—which he hadn't known that fact at the time. He had always assumed she didn't want to be a commoner. He sighed, _I really don't pay attention_.

He yawned, ready for a nap now that he was on a bed, "If you were normal, would you be less irritable that you are now?"

She glared at him, "You owe me a favor in return for my singing to win you those worthless potions."

He smirked sarcastically, "And what favor will you ask—"

"Do not speak further. You're getting on my nerves."

---

He took a nap but was awoken harshly by Avalyn's laughter—a noise so very rare, he almost couldn't believe it. He opened his eyes and saw she was standing at the foot of the bed with her hands pressed onto her sides, nearly buckling over from shaking so hard.

"What?" he asked and was rather alarmed at her curious behavior.

She tried standing up straight but could barely look at him for more than two seconds before starting off into another bout.

He scratched his chin but found that there was hair, shielding it. He prickled with excitement but it soon turned to worry when the hair didn't stop, it kept going. It grew the length of his midsection. He was dismayed to find that the hair on his head had grown as well, but also as long. He had longer hair than Avalyn!

She just kept laughing, so very amused at the way he looked, and the way a panic reached his blue eyes.

"I take it back, those potions weren't worthless," she howled and grabbed up a handful of his beard so he could see its effect.

"What are you just standing there for? Go fetch me a razor and some cream to shave with!"

She did leave, but not without a mighty guffaw at his situation. He fingered his long beard, unbelieving that the little potion held so much hair-growth power. The razor wouldn't be able to do much, the more he thought about it—he had _too _much hair.

He picked up the stolen sword that he had set by the nightstand and started to hack at his extra hair, it dropped in piles at his feet. He got his hair as short far as the middle of his neck before fearing he might cut off an ear if he continued, and he stopped his beard a few inches from his chin.

Avalyn stepped back into the room and stared at the piles of dark hair gathered on the floor, and then she looked at the young lord who sat on the bed with his elbow balanced on the handle of his sword—her mouth twitched into a smile.

She handed him a razor and a bowl of cream for him to tidy his appearance up, but still couldn't help but to laugh.

He returned her smile, as it was sort of a humorous predicament. He spread the cream over his chin and carefully removed the remaining extra facial hair. He ended up with a modest layer on the point of his chin that merged into a small strip of facial hair right under his lower lip—a style that was known to be popular in the King's court. He cleared his upper lip of hair entirely as it made his nose itch. He washed the remnants of the cream away with a handful of water from the room's basin and dried it on his sleeve.

"Is it better?" He asked, since there was no mirror.

She tipped her head to study him, still with a radiant smile full of humor, "Yes. Much."

They tried to gather up the remaining piles of his hair and ended stuffing it with the straw in the bed's mattress to dispose of it without raising question of where it had all suddenly come from. Even though the situation was sudden and bothersome, he was glad it had happened, not only because he now had facial hair but because Avalyn was smiling—she was out of her mood and once again fond of him.

---

On the tenth day that he marked the soul of his boot, they came to a city. It wasn't yet the one that they sought but it was the city Avalyn was known to be from to all the courtiers of Wendbury—Prition.

Prition housed a larger population, and was governed over by Petrin, Count of Prition. He informed Avalyn of the city's facts and she gave a slight laugh, "Petrin of Prition?"

"What is so amusing to you about that?"

"Try saying that five times, fast"

"Petrin of Prition, Petrin of Prition, Pertchrin of Prichin, Pret—huh, that is funny," he gave up after his slop-up of the third saying. That was a thing he had, over their traveling, come to like Avalyn for—noticing little things, especially those that were unusually amusing.

Suddenly her eyes lit up, "You said this was a city that held dances often?"

He nodded apprehensively, because he only knew about court dances and he did not wish to announce himself to Petrin's court and have it be known he was there—word would surly spread—Halden would surly hunt him down and finish what he had started.

"Let us find an inn to stay at," He gently pushed her forward. They walked the cobblestone streets of the city, searching for lodgings. Along the way they had stopped at any villages near the main road and Avalyn would sing for the residents, and in return they would receive copper or even silver coins for the people enjoyed her song.

They came across the _Waltz Inn_, which was much nicer than any of the road traveler establishments they had found along the way. It was more expensive too, but Jaythen could part with gold and silver coin to enjoy some bit of luxury that he missed. The price for a room was thirty silver coin, which equaled fifteen gold coin. He paid in ten gold coin and ten silver coin.

When they entered their room, it was one bed as always. They had shared the bed every time because Jaythen couldn't bring himself to sleep on an uncomfortable floor when he had paid for it. Avalyn never wanted to sleep on the floor either, and to her discontent, shared the bed with the young lord nevertheless—although she always snatched the blankets away and stayed far on the other side until morning.

He had asked her why they couldn't fly and get to the destination more quickly, but she replied that it was too dangerous to fly during the day since people could see her in the sky.

"Then why did you change to dragon in a market full of people if you fear such a risk?" he nagged.

She only sighed with exasperation, knowing that he knew the answer but he was just asking to be bothersome.

He suggested they could fly by night, but that would require that they sleep during the day, which they just had never gotten around to doing and so their sleep cycles were still awake by day, asleep by night.

Jaythen fell backwards onto the soft mattress and spread out his arms over his head with a content smile, relishing the comfort.

"Can we go dancing?"

His smile faded, "I'm not sure—"

"Please? It's been so long!"

"It's only been a few weeks!"

"Still, that is much too long to go between dancing," she fell onto the bed next to him on her stomach and opened her eyes so pleadingly wide that he had to sigh and agree.

"Very well, we shall go out this evening and dance."

She pushed herself up with a dazzling smile—pleased that she had gotten her way.

He sent Avalyn to go out and buy some undergarments because she still had none since they had left Wendbury, which had been uncomfortable for her. He trusted her with half the content of his purse—because he didn't know how much ladies undergarments cost.

While she was gone he had his clothes taken by one of the inn's maids for washing. The city inns provided more services to their guests as well. He had never really been out on his own before—even when he was in the Imperial City he had two guards of Wendbury in his company. Now all he had was Avalyn.

_She's not so bad_, he thought as he waited for his clothes to be returned clean. Even though she was something in between human and dragon, she still acted—for the most part—human. She was well-spoken, intelligent, and often fierce in her moods but in rare occurrences when she lost all the weight of the world—she was absolutely charming.

He wanted to know more about her mother though, _Alys_—she said was the lady's name. When they found Alys, could she explain why Avalyn had the ability to transform into a dragon? Would she have a valid explanation to why she had abandoned her daughter with peasants, in the middle of nowhere?

There was a knock on the door and Jaythen went to answer it, finding his clothes clean, dry, and folded at the foot of the door when he opened it. He dressed and then waited for Avalyn. She returned with decent undergarments and gave him any extra money that was left over.

"They are having a festival soon, out in the city plaza at sundown—there were musicians! I'm sure they are planning to dance, can we go to it?" she mentioned as she dressed into them, while he waited on the other side of the door.

He found himself very willing to rather attend the festival than satisfy her craving for dance by going to court. He nodded, "We shall."

---

The ale and the dancing had them both laughing and feeling free. When Avalyn made him dance with her, all he could focus on in the boisterous atmosphere of movement was the girl with green eyes and that smile of hers, radiant as he held her—her hair flowing between them, and her eyes lit up so bright—they almost looked inhuman. She had thoroughly enchanted all the men at the festival, and he felt a twinge of jealousy seeing her laughing with them. The dances were always fast paced and nearly chaotic for him as he didn't know the steps to most of them, but he enjoyed the twirling. However, most of all, he could now enjoy the feeling of being someone else—not Jaythen of Wendbury. The young count-to-be would be looked down upon for partaking in lowly commoner festivals and dances.

"If I truly were from Prition, I would be saddened to have left," Avalyn smiled as she took a seat next to him, nursing her feet from all the dancing.

"I'll buy you a house here then," he handed her a mug and toasted her. She shook her head and laughed at the absurdity, taking a swig.

He finished off his mug and laughed while looking at the bottom of it, "I don't even know what this festival is honoring."

"Neither do I, but I enjoyed it nonetheless."

He glanced at her and noted how cheerful she was. Dancing must have been the something to cause her release, to forget her troubles and cares. He wished that he had something of the sort, because he could think of nothing that rendered him as happy as she seemed at the moment.

"Can you tell me about Alys?"

Her smile dropped immediately. If the act of dancing made her lose her worries, then the mention of her mother brought them all back.

"What do you want to know?

"What sort of lady is she?"

Avalyn was also done with her mug of ale and slammed it on the table behind her, standing abruptly and taking leave of him.

He sighed, cursing himself for putting her back into a foul mood. He had hoped that in her lightness of mood, she would have been more willing to talk about her mother. Apparently, all the lightness of mood in the world could not overcome the darkness that filled her when her mother was brought up. He now could only stand and go after her and hope she would forgive him for his impudence.

* * *

A/N: For anyone interested, I made another visualization of Avalyn, this time in her golden dress on the same link in my profile. Thanks for reading!


	18. Trading Secrets

He did not call out her name, he did not try to dissuade her from the unknown path she was taking, he could only follow her. She walked hurriedly through the streets to nowhere in particular, or so he thought. The houses and shops steadily dwindled around them as he pursued her into the city gardens. Prition was a wealthier city, known for its culture and public works, among other venues of entertainment. Though the garden they were in was by far smaller than the sprawling lushness that he had seen while in the Imperial City, it was still beautiful, with blooming blossoms on the trees. Avalyn had stopped in the middle of a grassy knoll with her back still turned on him. He cautiously approached her, taking a swallow before saying softly, "I apologize for upsetting you."

She took a shaky breath—her shoulders visibly trembling before she turned to face him, "Perhaps you should be told—its just that my mother—I have not spoken of her—" she shook her head, losing her thoughts in mid-sentence. Her emotions—once confined to show through her eyes only—had broken free and were apparent in her whole face. Pained.

He stepped forward and took her hand, "If it causes you pain, then I wish not to hear it, and promise not to bring it up again," she only looked at the grass beneath her feet, unconvinced, it seemed, "—but just know I am here to listen if you feel the need of unburdening yourself."

She had been looking at the ground but upon his words she slowly glanced up, something in her eyes flickered, considering him.

"I do want to, and up until this moment I don't think I could have ever found the words to do so."

She slowly sank to the grass and lay on her back, staring up at the sky—which was clear and sprinkled with stars. He took a seat across from her, patiently waiting for her to find the words to tell him about the peculiar mother, Alys.

"It has been hard for me to say what I feel for her. On one hand, she is my mother and I should give her the benefit of the doubt and seek her out for answers. On the other hand, she abandoned me with loathsome caretakers, so why should I care about her if she has stopped caring about me?"

He assumed her question was rhetorical, which it was as she paused with a sigh, "I fear that if I do find her, that she will confirm the latter."

"What was your childhood like with her?"

"I was very young when she left me, but before that day—she must have held an affection for me, no matter how small or great it was. It was only we two, for she once told me my father had died in a dragon attack before she even knew she was pregnant with me. She cared for me, made sure I had enough to eat. We played games. She read me stories and in turn taught me to read. She often said clever things. I thought she was the bravest lady in the world."

Avalyn rolled onto her side with her head lying on her arm and looked at the young lord, "But she was always troubled too. She never mentioned the reason or rhyme but even at four years old I could tell she was. We went many places, never staying for long—she had a wealth to start with but it diminished over our travels until finally, one day we found ourselves out of money and at the farmer's cottage near the Great Forest."

Jaythen leaned over and laid on the flat of his back, saddened by her tone—which had started her recollection with happy nostalgia—and turned to bitterness.

"She told me '_Avalyn, you behave yourself. I promise I shall return for you as soon as I have the chance_.' Then she unclasped her amulet and gave it to me. I thought it was a promise but now it only seems made of false hopes. I've not seen or heard from her since then."

Her gaze turned to Jaythen suddenly, "I don't understand how someone can care for another and promise such a thing and then not keep it. What did I do to deserve such a fate? Perhaps she knew what I was to become, and did not want to deal with me when it happened."

"What if she is dead? What if that is the reason you haven't seen her after all this time?"

She paused briefly, as though she had never considered it but he knew she wasn't a fool, she had many years to consider the possibility. "That is what I aim to find out, if I cannot find her, I can at least find out what has happened to her."

From where his head lay, he was on level with her gaze. She was studying him in some way and he felt that if he stared in return for too long that he would be lost in her eyes forever. He blinked slowly, feeling the weight of the festivities hit him.

"Jaythen," he heard his name in a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember when you told me that you would—in return for my participation of your engagement charade—give me anything my heart desired?"

He opened his eyes to see her expression. Her thoughtfulness had changed to something else that made the hairs on his arms stand despite the temperate evening air. "Yes, and I still hold to my promise—"

"Kiss me."

His eyes widened, wondering what would compel her to request such a thing. He moved closer and brushed an obscuring, loose strand of gold away from her face, "May I ask why?"

"Because you are the only one that I can trust."

It wasn't much of an answer but nevertheless, he leaned over to oblige her request and keep to his promise. First he kissed her bottom lip, then the corners of her mouth—both in fairly quick but meaningful movements. Such privileged touch encouraged him to want more. He pulled her against him, as he laid back into the grass and gave her the kiss she deserved—slower, filled with his unspoken feelings of adoration. He had resisted falling into any romances because of what Nicolette had done to his heart—refused to—and now as he held the girl with green eyes in his arms, knew that even if he wanted a romance with such a girl as her it would be truly impossible.

Even though he had his eyes closed in that moment he was so suddenly aware of everything about her. The way her lips were even softer than her skin, and the way her eyelashes tickled his face as their tips brushed against his cheeks. The movement of her fingers through his hair, unintentionally mussing it sent a pleasurable tingling through his scalp. Most of all, he was aware the way her body was relaxed against his, when before it had only ever been held with tension when touched. She truly must have trusted him.

She pulled away slowly—reluctant to end such a moment. He still wanted more of her and leaned forward, wrapping his long arms around her and pulling her back to him with an unintentional possessiveness—though to claim her was an impossible act in itself.

Her hand stopped his lips from returning to her, so he ended up meeting them to her palm. He took in a dejected breath, letting his desires settle to calm, "What's wrong? Is it not what you expected?"

"No," she shook her head and didn't meet his stare. She removed her hand, "It was actually, very—wonderful."

"Then why—?"

She looked upon him then, troubled, though giving no clue to why, "I only asked for a kiss—one kiss. I won't abuse your promise._"_

He leaned forward to kiss her again. In his mind, he thought that she could abuse it as much as she wanted and he wouldn't mind. It was hard for him to believe that she was not consumed with as much bliss that he had felt while their lips were connected. Her hand covered his mouth from doing anything more.

"You love someone else anyhow—" she placed her other hand onto her forehead, trying to cool it of it's the heated flush. She blinked a few times, her breath coming short—seeming to still hold something in, "and they will surely want your kisses for themselves."

She stood abruptly but he was shocked at her assessment, and grabbed her hand to keep her from leaving. She looked down upon him in question—he could still see some sort of embarrassment flooded in her cheeks. "How would you know that I'm _in love_ with someone else?"

She looked away and tugged her hand back, "There's a look you get about you sometimes—when your thoughts have focused inward and you are lost to the present."

He was puzzled at her response, and his face showed it. She sighed and continued, "It's a look of love."

"How would you even know?"

"My mother got that look about her often, because my father was gone. I asked her about it once, but then her face turned to that other look."

"What _other_ look?"

"You also have it—directly after your look of love fades—when it seems as though a part of you has died."

He understood that she could see when he was thinking of Nicolette. He had no clue his face betrayed so much, or how carefully Avalyn had been studying him.

She was done explaining and so turned to go back to their room at the inn. She had taken a few steps before he said in a croaky voice, "Her name is Nicolette."

All his pent up rage and sadness slipped out of him then, as if saying her name out loud—to another being had unlocked that box of secrets within him. Avalyn stared dismayed as she saw him bury his face in his hands and give a prolonged, hurtful bellow.

To his own revulsion, he felt a wetness touch his eyes and hands. His chest felt so tight thinking of the recent past. It hurt him how he had something so wonderful and then could not have it anymore. The longer he had Nicolette, the more attached he had become and therefore was harder to part with. What infuriated his love the most, was knowing that some strange man, some _prince_ who did not know her was also allowed to have the same love. Love was supposed to be unique and hers was supposed to be _his_, not that royal from the Evening Isles. He loved her better and in the end, he was punished for it. His thoughts were rolling heatedly through his head, blurring all his senses into a great but dark emotion.

He felt a cool softness touch his upper arm and peeked at events in reality through his fingers—Avalyn was standing close beside him with a sad but concerned expression. She tugged his hands away from his face and dabbed the wetness from his eyes with the tip of her dress, before sitting onto her knees next to him, "Tell me."

They sat in the grass until the moon was high. Slowly he untangled the emotions and his affairs with the princess into coherent words. To his surprise, Avalyn listened intently with a hard stare and wasn't exasperated by his woes or excessive praise of another female. He knew that a girl like Vitoria would have strangled him by then if she were in Avalyn's place. He sucked in a breath as he finished, "You're the only person in the world that knows."

Her legs were pulled under her, and she sat back on her heels with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was biting into her lower lip in thought, "Love causes so many problems."

Her answer wasn't one that he would have expected.

"But the fulfillment, pleasure, and bond you get from such a feeling, it seems worth it all," he admitted, recalling those feelings that he would never have again with the princess.

She raised a brow, not fully comprehending. They stared at each other in a most mystified way, until he realized something startling.

"Avalyn, have you ever been in love?"

She shook her head no.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, suddenly deeply saddened, "Has anyone ever loved you?"

It was a harsh question, and that time she didn't even say or do anything but look away—silently confirming that she hadn't known love, even in its smallest capacity.

He felt horrible for complaining to her about something she hadn't even experienced—there was no way for her to sympathize. Still, something didn't make sense to him about it.

"Why did you want me to kiss you?"

Her eyes flashed onto him instantly, showing that she was much more intelligent and less naïve of the world than she would seem to be, "You don't have to _love_ someone to kiss them." She pulled herself upward, "I merely wanted one, to know what it was like—and—"

He drew nearer seeing an uncertainty reach her eyes.

"And—?"

She sighed, "I've never been able to bring myself to get close to _anyone_. I was abandoned, abused, and then I found I could be dragon—which I feared that if anyone should discover it, they would surely destroy me. The farmers and their children, and anyone else I have known, even my own mother—do not _know_ me—to them I am just the girl with green eyes."

He was starting to understand her reasoning, noticing also how the wind had picked up and was tugging strands of her hair from it's loose bun, framing her sad eyes.

She actually stepped closer to him, concentrating more on her feet than the young lord in front of her, "But to you—Jaythen—I am Avalyn. You know more about me than any other person on this earth, and it is so because I trust you."

All at once he was grateful and moved at her admission. He grabbed her into a tight embrace— the desire to kiss her had diminished and was overcome with a desire to comfort her—realizing she also knew much more about him than anyone else. She buried her face into his shirt, with her eyes closed and finally, a peaceful look about her. In his glancing instance, something struck him so deep about her—a distant feeling from long ago but somehow seemed completely new.

As he embraced her, he tried to remember what it meant but ended up lost in his mind with one truth shining above all—they had to find her mother because Avalyn deserved to be loved.


	19. Rope Walkers

"I can't believe we're finally here."

Jaythen glanced at the girl next to him and noticed she was prickled with anxiousness and even a small hint of fear.

"I still say we'd have been here sooner if you would have just flown."

She frowned at his obnoxiousness and didn't honor his remark with a reply.

It was the afternoon of the eighteenth day that Jaythen had marked the sole of his boot. They stared through an arch that was carved from the ends of opposite housing structures. Through the arch they saw more of the Imperial City—people crowded together, shouting, laughing, chatting. They were in the common district—someplace Jaythen had not visited during his stay in the city—a place he really had no place in. He saw children playing in the street, unsupervised, and wearing nothing but long shirts that were stained with dirt and other manners of filth. Avalyn didn't seem to find any of it familiar, still searching for something—and for that he was grateful. They kept moving forward and finally came to a place that he was used to—the artesian market.

It was much like market in his hometown—full of shops, finer goods, and polite sellers that didn't hassle for a sale to be made.

Avalyn's eyes were darting around, taking in all the sights and movement until she stopped walking abruptly, causing Jaythen—who was right behind her—to stumble into her.

"What?" he wondered and pulled her out of the current of people that shuffled past them. She pointed to a shop that had a stained glass window depicting a rose.

"That strikes as familiar," she squinted her eyes, trying to call upon a memory but it was too far-gone to say for sure. "There was a jovial man who played coin tricks on me—pulling them out from behind my ears."

He didn't know how to respond but guessed she had been there before by her latter comment—so very specific. He steered her to the shop's doors and entered.

It was a bookshop as evidence by the lines of shelves along the walls all packed with books. Avalyn became intrigued at once and went to one of the shelves and studied the spines.

"It is so nice to see young people take an interest in books," a fellow said, the voice seeming to float above them. They looked up and saw that he was atop a ladder against one of the shelves and sorting books to their places. He was older than them by at least twenty years—he wore a cap and an intricate patterned cravat.

"Do you have any fairytales?" Avalyn asked, tipping out a book from its place to see the cover.

"I certainly do, all the collection of fairytales are on that shelf," he kindly pointed to one next to where Jaythen was standing. Jaythen crossed his arms and coughed to make a point that they weren't there for books but for answers. He disliked reading books even though he was able—the words were so small and close together and gave him a headache. She ignored him and curiously browsed the section of fairytales. Apparently she was stalling, a rope-walker, balancing on a string of ignorance and if she fell, she would gain knowledge—either good or bad—about her mother. Perhaps, deep down she would have preferred to stay as such, but Jaythen knew better.

"Sir, we were wondering if you would know anything about a woman named Alys. She would have lived around this area—maybe about fifteen years ago?"

The man jerked his head around so hard, they heard a muscle knot crack in his neck. He rubbed it and narrowed his eyes, "What would you want with Alys?"

Avalyn's eyes widened enormously, losing all interest in the fairytale she was skimming—that is, if she was paying attention to it in the first place.

"She _was_ here then," she said it softly, seeming to know but as if she hardly could believe it.

The bookkeeper dismounted the ladder and stood up to them, "She's gone now—has been for years—and the likes of you are not going to find her."

Avalyn grabbed the fellow's forearms and curtsied to him in a most pleading manner—her eyes averted and a tremble in her voice, "Please…please do you know where she went when she left?"

He took his arms out of her grasp, suddenly very baffled at the young woman's behavior. He lifted her chin and studied her face—then sucked in a heavy breath.

"By God's green earth, with eyes like those—you could only be Ava."

_Ava?_ Jaythen chuckled to himself and raised a brow at the nickname unbeknownst to him.

"Who are you to call me _Ava_?" she answered coldly. She straightened and became guarded. Surprisingly, a nerve had been hit.

"You don't remember me?" he sounded disappointed, and held his chin while shaking his head. His face suddenly lit up and he held out his finger in a momentary gesture. She pressed her lips together impatiently and he reached for the side of her face but didn't touch anything—just procured a gold coin from behind her ear.

"Marv—" she sighed with a slight smile, "—I won't be fooled with such childish trickery anymore."

"I'll say, you've grown into quite a lady—you look nothing like your mother however. The only resemblance is your wide, green eyes." He gushed and then saw the ring on her finger, and lifted her hand jovially, "Oh and you're married too! Congratulations!"

She shook her head profusely, not managing to find words to dissipate his joy. Jaythen stepped in and found the words for her, "No, we're not married."

"Oh," Marv said, lowering her hand and then released it.

"We're _engaged_," Jaythen flashed a sly smile at Avalyn who only replied with a forced one that hid her peevishness at his lie.

"Ah, so my congratulations still stand!" he clasped his hands together, "I would enjoy a cup of tea, would you sit and stay awhile?"

Avalyn nodded with a genuine smile on her face that time. He locked up the shop since he would be preoccupied with his guests for a while and couldn't attend to customers, "It's a slow day anyway."

He led them to the shop's lower floor where he started boiling a pot of water in the open fireplace.

"So when will you two be married?"

"We haven't set a date yet," Avalyn cut in before Jaythen could utter any more falsehoods. She subtly threw a frown at him to which he replied with a look of innocence.

"Oh?"

"It's important that I find my mother first."

"Yes. It seems something is always trying to find that woman."

"What do you mean?" Avalyn's eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward. He set a cup of hot tea in front of her. Instead of blowing the rising steam from the top, she stared intently at the bookkeeper.

Marv sighed, seeming to draw memories from long ago, "The first time she arrived here, it was dark, cold, and she carried you in her arms and was desperately seeking an extra room for board in exchange for work—she even offered what little gold she had for the trouble. My Father, who owned the shop at that time took pity on her and let her stay with us. She was obviously frightened—a single young mother with a small child to raise. He asked her why she was so scared and she told us that someone dangerous was after her—and by hiding in this city she hoped that she would lose them. She was only nineteen years old at the time, and she was a pretty, sassy young thing—I daresay I was a bit infatuated with her."

"Did she say _who_ was seeking her?"

"Nay, she kept those matters to herself," he shook his head, rather discouraged, "She kept to herself a lot of the times, but if there was one sure fact about Alys, it was that she loved you."

Jaythen watched Avalyn's reaction closely, at the disbelief, then the devastation that hit her face and washed away all other emotions. Marv saw this and became alarmed, "What's the matter child?"

Avalyn couldn't bring herself to answer. She was battling back a silent rage, and in the end it had won—she slammed her cup down on the tabletop and ran up the stairs to hide it from the two men.

"What was that about?" Marv asked, in a concerned whisper—to Jaythen since Avalyn had left, or perhaps incredulously to himself.

Jaythen coughed and took a moment to explain to the man what he knew of Avalyn's past—besides the dragon bits. When he was done, Marv was bewildered and slightly agitated.

"She must have had good reason to leave Ava, there would be no other way," his frown into nothing focused on the young lord, "Believe me when I say that her child was her heart and soul—there was not a time when they were apart."

Jaythen would have liked to believe—for Avalyn's sake—but knew too little of the past to make a sound decision on what Alys could have been thinking as she left her 'heart and soul' in the care of strangers.

"Do you know where she went after she left here?"

"She mentioned heading back to the north—Griswold. She was originally from that area—the foothills of the mountains, or so she had mentioned."

"Griswold," Jaythen repeated, running his tongue over his lips to pick up any spilt tea he had drank. He had never been to Griswold—it was a modest-sized town with many run-down areas it was told. He recalled the elders mumble of Griswold's poverty and corruption—it's own priest—many years ago stole the holy relics from his own church and tried to make off with them.

He shook his head. If the bookkeeper said she headed toward Griswold, then that would be their next destination for finding Avalyn's mother.

"Since you two are here, the least I can do is offer you a spare room until you take leave of the City," Marv whisked away the tea cups for cleaning.

"You're very kind," Jaythen nodded in acceptance. Inns of the Imperial City were by far the most expensive, and to turn down a safe, warm room for free was just ludicrous. Jaythen climbed the stairs to the main room of the shop and scanned for any sight of the girl with green eyes.

He spotted her in a blanket of tranquility, and was shocked. He had expected her to be angry. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against a low shelf and reading an open book already.

He stood beside her and then crouched down, "Is it good?"

She glanced at him tiredly, "I just started it."

"Marv has offered us a room for the night, so I accepted."

She didn't say anything, just bit her lip and turned a page. He wondered if she was all right, and then realized she really _was_ in an angry mood but was keeping it from lashing out at anyone. He saw it in her body, the tension, and the intense focus of her gaze trying to keep from thinking about the issue at hand.

"I was taught to read here long ago," Avalyn sighed, and turned a page. "We would sit over in that nook under the rose window—and she would point out small words and have me sound them out."

Jaythen didn't know how to respond, instead he offered her the information that she needed, "Alys went to Griswold when she left here—I figure that is the next piece of trail we need to find her."

"Should I still try?" Avalyn whispered with a slight hiss, her focus shattered.

Jaythen shrugged, it was all Avalyn's choice—always had been.

She closed the book, "If she loved me so much, then she couldn't have abandoned me like she did."

Jaythen pulled the book of fairy tales out of her lap—and made an attempt to comfort her even though she was angry.

'_It's always best to go outside when the rain clouds blow away_' was a saying his nursemaid told him and the way Avalyn was at the moment, reminded him of it. He did not have the good sense to leave her alone. She seemed like a rain cloud with such a glower. Perhaps it was because that even though she was so dangerous, it was easy to forget to fear her, the way she looked.

"I don't know much about your mother but I feel that she did love you and still does even now—if she is alive."

"Jaythen, you don't know what you speak of. You're just saying appealing things to lighten my heart—but I know to be wary of hope." She sounded annoyed, and looked away.

He stood, a crimson tint appearing in his face at her remark, and disappointed—though not surprised—that her mood was still dark. _I can't reach her, not when she is like this_, he noted and put the book into an empty space on the nearest shelf. She stood also—shaking her skirt of any dust while she had been sitting, then to his surprise, she punched him in the arm—surprisingly hard. So she was going to lash out after all.

He gave her a bewildered look and held it.

"Why did you tell Marv we're engaged? Do you enjoy creating tension through your lies? We _are not_ engaged!"

He should have felt disappointed that she still didn't think him worthy. He didn't heed the blaze in her eyes though, feeling the urge to play with her as her remark was said in the tone of a whining child. He just couldn't bring himself to fear her like he used to, not after the breakthrough they had that evening in gardens of Prition. The young lord was foolish in his judgment, for testing her patience was as foolish as playing with fire, "You're wearing my ring…"

She punched him again, for an actual answer—he winced, "Fine. I said so, because it's a more probable, quick answer than explaining the truth. It gives reason to why you wear a ring, and why we're together. It's scandalous for us to be roaming around the realm without a chaperone anyhow, and is also frowned upon."

Avalyn's frustrations cooled at his logic, she nodded, accepting his answer, "Only if someone asks though."

"It's already assumed that we're married if they _don't_."

She simply narrowed her eyes and left to find the bookkeeper. The greatest reason though, that he omitted from telling was that she was safer in his lie. Not that she couldn't protect herself adequately—he had witnessed that she was very capable of doing so—but other men would no doubt be drawn to her and if they thought she was spoken for, would be less likely to try and gain her attentions. Upon this thought, Jaythen knew that an unsound jealousy, above all, drove him to tell the lie of their 'engagement.'

---

Avalyn had prepared dinner herself using the ingredients in Marv's cupboards. She told them she did so in gratitude for his hospitality. Jaythen voiced his surprise that she could cook to which she replied, "I grew up in a farmhouse. Of course I can make meals."

Marv opened a bottle of champagne from the cellar for their meal, claiming he had no other reasons to use it, and he would get sick off drinking a whole bottle by himself. He toasted their engagement and Avalyn was not acting as a bride-to-be, but rather sullen, with more things on her mind than she let them in on. Jaythen however, took more than his share and smiled like a man about to be wed.

"You must invite me to your wedding!" Marv declared.

Avalyn opened her mouth to say something but Jaythen hastily raised his glass of Champaign to meet the bookkeeper's, "Of course!"

Marv's glass joined his and it made a '_clink' _noise.

"I feel tired, I'm going to bed. Thank you again for lending us a room," Avalyn stood and let out a theatrical yawn—probably the closest thing to a lie she had ever done. Jaythen knew Avalyn to think of lying as only being direct. She didn't consider omitting details a lie, and he did.

"Tell me about Alys," he asked the man when Avalyn was good and gone.

"Oh, she was something. She could read, which—it's silly, but first caught my attentions of her. She sorted books for my father but often became distracted and started reading them, and it seemed like when her head was off in those stories, she was escaping reality," Marv paused and took a swig of champagne. " She cared for Ava with as much tenderness as a loving mother could, and she would acquire a smile when evening came, and every morning she awoke sullen—but there never was a reason to why."

Jaythen considered Marv's last comment and also took a swig of champagne from his glass, "And what was Avalyn like when she was child?"

"She was a rascal!" Marv laughed which made Jaythen's lips twitch up with humorous amusement.

"How so?"

"One time, I think she was about four years old—my father had told Alys that if she sorted the remainder of new arrivals books, that she could have the afternoon off to take Ava to the gardens to play. Ava was so excited and kept pestering Alys to complete the task faster and the poor woman spent so much time trying to calm the child down, that it was evening and she wasn't even finished. Ava was sourly disappointed—and the next day we all bore the brunt of her anger as she had started 'sorting' the next pile for her mother so they could go to the gardens that next morning but alas, the child merely put books on shelves at random and caused a whole slough of confusion to incoming customers looking for specific bindings," Marv sighed with a nostalgic laugh, "So instead of making Alys find all the misplaced books, I offered to do it so she could take Ava to the gardens."

"That was very kind of you," Jaythen toasted him.

He shrugged with a small smile, "I would have done anything to make Alys happy, but it was plain to see she loved another."

"Did she ever mention him?"

Marv shook his head, "Never. She never even mentioned being previously married, let alone a man's name. I could only tell by the way she seemed to be waiting for something—the man or the unnamed being that what seeking her, or both—they could have been the same."

"When did she leave?"

A sadness came about the bookkeeper's features, "She stayed for eight months, and did admit that it was the longest she'd ever stayed with other people before she started traveling—I thought maybe it was because she was fond of me. The morning she departed she thanked us for our hospitality and apologized for the short notice of her leave." Marv shook his head, bewildered while recalling the events, "She seemed frantic, _frightened_ but did not tell us if she was leaving because she was in sudden danger—for if she was I would have gladly protected her. She bundled up Ava and disappeared toward the northeast, toward Griswold and it was the last time I saw or heard from her—fifteen years ago."

Jaythen felt the man's sorrow. Marv had been in love with Alys and then she was gone. Just like Nicolette. It was strange how, looking back, time could seem so fast when a person was at their happiest and in the blink of an eye, the happiness was gone and time moved at it's slowest without it.

Jaythen yawned, with a true tiredness and bid the bookkeeper goodnight after thanking him for telling his memories. He made his way to the upper floor, which was occupied by the bedrooms—but in a series of stumbling motions from the intake of alcohol. He slowly opened the door in order not to wake Avalyn if she was asleep.

"You are ridiculous sometimes," he heard her whisper and he jumped, crashing his shoulder into the door. It had healed significantly since the wolf bite but it still hurt. He bit his fist with a pained expression.

Avalyn merely shook her head, unsympathetic, "And intoxicated."

"Am I ridiculous because I'm intoxicated?" he lowered his fist and raised his brows in playful wonder, falling onto the bed next to her—where she had been reading by candlelight.

He stared up at her, she was sort of up side down in his view—he waited for her answer.

"No, you're ridiculous for lying to poor Marv. He will be very disappointed when he does not receive a wedding invitation."

"You don't want to invite him?"

Avalyn gave him an incredulous look, shut her book and leaned over so close that her lips were nearly touching his ear. Her breath was so warm, heated and in a voice filled with disdain she mumbled, "I can _never_ marry you."

"I was merely jesting," Jaythen was taken aback by her tone. She sat up once more and blew out the flame of the candle. She gave a heavy sigh. A morose feeling hung between them suddenly, and he hated it. She had finally trusted him and he needed to keep her trust, to keep her near.

"I did not find it humorous."

Now he felt though as if he were rope-walker, trying to stay upright and balanced when so many things, the littlest of words or actions could cause him to loose balance and fall out of her good graces forever.

* * *

A/N: It's been awhile, I kind of took a break but do not fear, this story is still very much alive. Does it make you wonder about the past?


	20. The Woman in White

The dawn's light was creeping through the window of the small room, engulfing Jaythen's sleeping form. He grumbled and turned over to avoid the sunlight, wishing for a few moments of more rest. He found himself rolling to the other side of the bed to escape the brightness but noticed something was amiss. He should have rolled into Avalyn—but no one was there. He opened his eyes quickly and sat up, seeing he really was the only one in the bed. He yawned and began to don his clothes and hurried downstairs whilst still doing so. He shouldn't have been worried about the girl, but felt though their conversation last night had ended on a bad note. Marv was sweeping the entrance of the bookshop, whistling to himself.

"Ah, good morning lad. I have a breakfast plate made up for you—eggs, bacon, and potato shavings."

"Thank you," Jaythen replied. He was still tying the strings of his shirt, "Where is Avalyn?"

"She went out, I think she wanted to see the rest of the city—for memories—before you depart and continue forth."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"All she mentioned was _out_."

Jaythen sat himself at the table in the lower room and heartily ate the breakfast that was prepared for him. He noticed that Marv lived alone, and took care of the place well enough.

"Have you ever had a wife?"

Marv paused from his sweeping and peered down the shallow stairs, "No, never found myself a lass I favored."

It was obvious that Marv _had_ favored a girl—Alys—but she was untouchable. He gave Marv a look of sympathy.

"I suppose I'm happy the way I am, besides I hear wives nag often," Marv said to lift Jaythen's sudden melancholy expression on his behalf.

It had worked. Jaythen smirked, but still felt bad for the man. Going to bed with a warm body was almost worth the nagging that could ensue after marriage.

He finished up his meal and bid Marv a temporary farewell as he set off into the city. Of course he wanted to find Avalyn and make sure she was not getting set upon by thieves, but he had the feeling she could take care of herself for the time being.

His main purpose was to visit the palace—to hear news of Nicolette—and to warn the King of Halden's offense.

He ambled along the street, seeing familiar structures that brought a pained nostalgia for anything that reminded him of his previous stay, also reminding him of the princess that had loved him. When he arrived at the King's palace, he tried entering the grand hall through the noble's entrance but was halted by castle guards.

"You must see a palace herald to gain entrance to the hall," the guard pointed away, denying Jaythen.

"But I am the son—the _Count_ of Wendbury!" he objected, remembering he was in theory, the count—though he had not been properly bestowed the title yet in a traditional ceremony.

The guard raised his hand to Jaythen, as if he were dealing with a conniving commoner, "Watch your tongue! Your claim is null if you expect to gain entrance with such paltry clothes that look so beneath that station of prestige. Be gone or else see a palace herald to cry your woes."

Jaythen bit his tongue from cursing the guard, never in his life having being so mistreated or disrespected by someone of lower order. He whirled around and stomped off to find the _common room_, a place right before the grand hall general palace entrance, usually filled with peasants or artisans wanting access into the court.

As he figured, it was busy, filled with a small crowd, shouting and scrambling to gain the attentions of any palace heralds behind the stands.

Waiting by politely for his turn would not help his intentions either. He wiggled his way through two portly merchants and a widow holding a piece of parchment to the front. The widow smacked him on the top of his head with her rolled up parchment and merely glowered at his rudeness.

"Oi, herald!" he whistled through his teeth to the nearest one. The man behind the stand regarded Jaythen as inferior but moved away from his former business with a peasant to aid Jaythen.

"What do you require?"

"I need to see the King."

The Herald's lips slid over his teeth in a grin of mockery, "None of your kind gets to meet with the _King. _Are you mad_?_"

"I am the _Count of Wendbury_!" Jaythen balled his fist and struck the top of the stand, causing a quiet to spread through the room.

The herald looked stricken at the young lord's outburst but then knotted his eyebrows, "You are _not_ Felixan Calonsis."

Jaythen sighed, "Felixan was my father, and he has passed away very recently. I'm _Jaythen Calonsis_. I beg of you to check the posted treasury count, for the King received the compensation from his will if you do not believe me."

The Herald listened intently and nodded, "Then why are you here, dressed so beneath your class?"

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "There was an act of betrayal, of treachery. I must inform the King that the count's nephew had tried to assassinate me and has run me out of Wendbury, has taken my place as count and has led all others to believe I am deceased."

After a moment of considering silence the herald sighed rather doubtfully, "That _is_ a fascinating story but I'm afraid without any proof of this occurrence you cannot gain entrance to the grand hall."

He then handed Jaythen a piece of parchment and an inked quill, "If you write these grievances, I can assure they will eventually be taken to the King."

_Eventually_, Jaythen thought with sarcasm. He angrily wrote of his situation, of Halden's betrayal, and his father's death. He did not forget to sing the King's praises, playing on the King's pride for order—which Halden, being unprepared for countship, ruined. When he was finished, the herald folded the parchment and stamped it with wax, handing it off to a messenger boy. The herald raised a brow at the young lord, "Are you quite finished here?"

Jaythen gave a hard nod and turned his back to leave but then suddenly whirled around, placing his hands on the stand, "What news of her highness, Princess Nicolette?"

The herald seemed surprised he would inquire about such a thing, but he cleared his throat, "She is not a princess anymore."

Jaythen knotted his brows in confusion, needing for the man to elaborate.

"She is _Queen_ of the Evening Isles. She departed here in January and was wed later in the month there. I suppose you would have already known this as being privy to court matters—"

There was something very insulting about his tone, so Jaythen left the common room for good.

His heart felt sluggish after hearing it said by another—that she was wed, she was gone—it was _final_. He slumped to a crude wooden bench against a building to collect his thoughts.

He didn't know how much time passed while he brooded with his head in his hands, recalling all his memories with the former princess. The hue in the sky might have changed from morning to afternoon—the sun felt higher as the heat was above his head more so than any other place.

"Pardon me, Sir," a gentle voice broke his thoughts. He dragged his hands over his face before looking at the speaker—a lady dressed in a white gown. She was a lovely, raven-haired damsel, she seemed regal, and she was smiling at him, coaxing him to reply.

"Yes?"

"I am new to the city and was trying to find my way to the gardens. I was wondering if you knew the way or direction I should take and kindly point me there?"

Jaythen knew the way very well, he stood and tried to explain the path she should take but couldn't find the words to describe it clearly. He stood with his hands held out, trying to think of a better way to explain—but he was not in the mood to think coherently.

She merely smiled at his idiocy and looped her arm through his. It caught him off guard—_what a very Nicolette-like thing to do_.

"Since words fail you, you may show me the way," she purred charmingly. He nodded, wondering why she was taking such an interest in him. He did not look noble at the moment and he was behaving like a fool. Perhaps she only found him amusing, nothing more.

He navigated them through the plaza and around a series of housing structures for the well-off citizens of the city. She stared forward with a pleased expression all the while. He only studied her, noting the tight grip on his arm did not match the curve of her placid smile or the way her pretty face seemed to have a hidden scorn.

"What business do you have in the gardens?" he wondered.

"I am searching for someone," was all the reply she gave.

He shrugged and suddenly his ears perked at a familiar sound. They neared the open gates of the gardens and he recognized Avalyn's voice, singing. He quickened his pace forward, taking the woman in white with him. She voiced no objections and followed along. He looked through the hedges and the blooming bushes of roses and halted as he spotted the girl with green eyes, sitting on the ledge of the Aquarius Fountain, leaning over and running her hand through the water as she sang.

"Oh, what a pretty song!" the woman in white gushed, causing Avalyn to gasp and stop singing immediately, turning around to face them. She was struck surprised and unaware at their approach. Jaythen caught a glimpse of crimson in her face as she pulled herself upward and made a nervous, trivial curtsy.

"Good day."

He wished the woman would have not interrupted the song, it was rare to hear Avalyn sing, and when she did—it was beautiful.

"How did you find me?" Avalyn narrowed her eyes, causing the woman to look taken aback.

"I was escorting this lady, to help her find her way to the gardens. Finding you here is a coincidence although this would be the first place I would have looked if I had made the effort," Jaythen let the woman off his arm and she looked at them curiously.

"You two know each other?"

"Avalyn is my fiancée," Jaythen explained out of recent habit, but Avalyn was staring at the woman and too caught up in her own thoughts to object to the lie.

"Ah," the woman nodded with a hint of knowing but did not comment how he was careless to have let his fiancée wander off, unescorted in the Imperial City. He was a careless husband-to-be—even though it was all a pretend.

Avalyn stood abruptly and grabbed his upper arm, "Let us go back."

"But—"

"_Please?_"

He looked down upon her and was startled at the urgency in her voice, he had never seen her so anxious. He bowed to the woman in white, "Good day, I do hope you find whoever you were searching for."

The woman in white only smiled slyly, "Thank you, I guarantee you I will."

Avalyn was pulling on his arm rather roughly and she seemed upset. She stared forward, only seeming to want to be back at the bookshop.

"What's wrong? I'm sorry if I startled you—you can go back if you wanted to spend more time there—"

She flipped herself around, causing him to nearly stumble over her, her eyes were wide, suspicious "Where did you meet her?"

"Who?"

"The woman in white."

He stared at her hard, trying to discern her tone of inquiry, "Why?"

"Never mind," she huffed and continued in the direction of the bookshop.

He caught her arm, "What are you on about? You can't be _jealous_ of her. I merely was helping a lost woman!"

Avalyn glared at him fiercely, "I am not _jealous_."

He rolled his eyes at the way she nearly whined her previous retort.

She quickly left him, trying all her might to return to Marv's comforting residence. He hurried along to keep up with her.

Marv was helping a set of customers in finding a book to purchase when Avalyn nearly flew through the front door followed by the young lord. She ran upstairs and threw herself across the bed they had slept in, the sheets still turned down from when Jaythen awoke. He entered reluctantly, bewildered at her sudden behavior. With a sigh, he sat next to her.

"I know it is hard for you to stay in human shape. We shall leave tomorrow and then you can change and the anger will leave you—" he placed a hand on her back, feeling her heart beat violently, thrashing her whole body.

"It's not that," she spoke quietly after she took in few breaths.

"Then what has caused you to act so strangely?"

"_Her_."

"Avalyn, I hardly even know her—" he nearly chuckled at her ridiculousness in thinking he would be so quickly taken with a strange lady.

"I do."

His smile faded, bewildered once more. He titled his head in curiosity, waiting for her to elaborate.

"When I was younger and still with my mother, I had nightmares—silly really—of a white witch."

He shook his head, indicating that he still was not getting what she was trying to explain to him.

"_A woman in white_."

"This was a coincidence, and besides those were only your childhood night frights—"

"No, because that woman you entered the garden with, she was the one in my nightmares."

He opened his mouth to reason that it still was unlikely the woman posed them any harm but she stopped him.

"I saw her when we were in Prition too—when I was out at market buying undergarments. I only saw her for a second, which made me believe my eyes were playing tricks on me, so I dismissed it but now I know she is real."

She sat up from her laying position and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, "She is following me."

Her suspicions and fears about the woman in white seemed preposterous to Jaythen. Avalyn had never seen her before Prition, Jaythen not at all—so how could she have found Avalyn if it wasn't all just coincidence? Then again, there seemed to be a great many secrets within Avalyn, being revealed little by little—he supposed this to be one of them. He smiled slightly—recalling how he used to wonder what she often dreamed about, finding he had an answer, though odd as it was.

Despite her unsound fear, he took her in his arms and embraced her to make her feel safe—to let her know that he wouldn't leave her. She accepted it gladly, still looking like she was in a far off place—blank to the reality around them.

After a moment, he ended his embrace, and held her by her shoulders to look at her. He didn't want to sound patronizing but he was still curious— "Supposing this isn't a coincidence, what do you believe this '_woman in white_' wants from you?"

Life entered her eyes once more, returning from its journey elsewhere within. She looked up to him, and held his gaze.

"My mother."

* * *

A/N: Whew, this story is a tangle of mystery.


	21. Will to Protect

Before Jaythen could ask how she was so sure, Marv entered the room. He was concerned for Avalyn—after seeing the way she swiftly entered the bookshop with a haunted expression.

"She's fine," Jaythen spoke on her behalf, not meaning to sound cross at the man but he wanted an explanation and Avalyn would not give one while Marv was present. This was in issue between they and they alone.

Marv gave a concerned frown but nodded, and returned to the main floor.

Avalyn pulled out of his grasp, and seemed to know of his burning curiosity, "I can't explain how, but you heard Marv last night—something was constantly seeking my mother all those years ago. I believe it is the woman in white."

"Why?"

Avalyn turned to face him. She was exasperated, "I don't _know_, Jaythen. I would have constant nightmares and she would appear, she…"

"What?"

She shook her head, "I can't remember."

Jaythen frowned, knowing Avalyn's memory to be great and filled with precise images. She was no doubt lying to avoid answering the question—and he could do nothing to coax the truth from her when she answered like so. It was horrible to think it—but he was relieved that Avalyn _could_ fear—it revealed a side to her humanity he had not yet witnessed.

After a moment he asked, "How could the lady in white even have been seeking your mother? You saw her, she was only a few years older than I."

"She's a witch. She must use black magic to keep her youthful appearance."

He held his breath in a frustrated manner, letting it fill his cheeks until they were puffy. He let out his breath and rolled his eyes, wishing life were less complicated. He wanted to tell Avalyn that she was being ridiculous—but couldn't risk her becoming angry with him and closing herself up again.

Instead he left her there in the room, and went downstairs to apologize for his harsh tone toward Marv, who had been nothing but considerate and kindly towards them.

Marv was sitting behind a counter, reading his own book and the shop was momentarily empty.

"I apologize for being cross with you, it's just that you entered in the middle of an important discussion."

"It's quite all right, I apologize for having interrupted you—I only did so because Ava looked so very troubled upon her return."

"Yes, she had been shaken but she is better now."

Marv nodded, pleased it was so, "She is fortunate to have such a caring man in her life."

He didn't know how to respond so just stood in the room, glancing around, trying to imagine a young Avalyn living there. A thought occurred to him, "When Avalyn was little, did you notice her to ever have nightmares?"

Marv set down his book on the countertop and regarded Jaythen with a serious frown, "Yes, a few times a week the child could be heard screaming during the late hours of the night. Alys would have a devil of a time trying to calm Ava's tears but in the end she sung her back to sleep and Ava would not be bothered with them the rest of the night."

"Did Alys ever mention what Ava—I mean Avalyn saw in those nightmares?"

Marv tilted his head, trying to remember but then shook it, "I don't recall her ever mentioning what, and besides that is such a trivial piece of information and from so very long ago that I wouldn't know if she had."

"Right," Jaythen nodded, knowing now that at least Avalyn's claim of childhood nightmares was not an exaggeration. He recalled only having a few night terrors when he was a young child—though he forgot what they were about and did not develop a fear of anything because of them.

After more book sales, and after the shop was closed for the evening, the three of them sat down to a modest supper prepared by Marv himself. Jaythen admired Marv's skill to be sufficient without a woman, but still felt bad that the man was all alone.

Avalyn and Marv chatted and chuckled over their food about fond memories of when she was young, or the changes that had taken place after she had left. Marv's father had passed away, leaving him the bookshop and Marv closed it down on Sunday afternoons to teach common children how to read.

As they laughed and talked, Jaythen felt withdrawn—homesickness pierced him briefly—remembering the times his family would sit at the table in the informal dining chamber and discuss politics and events of the realm over meals. He then was very saddened, realizing that his mother probably thought he was dead. He knew she would cry limitless tears to cause the hardest men to weep at the news of her son's death. A tightness formed in his chest—knowing he had to go home soon and confront Halden, with or without the aid of the King. He had to take his place, no matter how much he wanted to be someone else—he was rightfully Jaythen, Count of Wendbury. He glanced at Avalyn, who was smiling and listening to Marv recollect the past—he would return home after they found Alys, because he couldn't bring himself to leave her in the world with no one.

He excused himself and took a step outside into the spring air. The sky was in a wash of sunset—mixes of pink, violet, and orange as the sun faded.

_The sun was low, signaling it was time to meet Nicolette—this time it was in the gardens again, behind the orchard._

_ Of course, Jaythen was there first since she usually took awhile to evade guards or her governesses. When he saw her figure enter the orchard, his heart soared—just being near her made him feel like all was right in the world. She smiled weakly, or tiredly when she was close enough that he could see her face, as the evening was quickly settling upon them._

_ "What is the matter?"_

_ She took in a sigh, "Oh, nothing. It's been a long day and I had a lot of dress fittings among other tasks to complete."_

_ He raised a brow, which caused her to chuckle—which made her nose crunch adorably—which was yet another reason to love her._

_ "What? Do you think I do nothing but lay around, being fed grapes all day until I see you?"_

_ "No," he smiled and pulled her near, her presence intoxicating. "Can we sleep together tonight?"_

_ Her lips twisted into a sly grin, "My lord, you seem to have only one thought on your mind this evening."_

_ "You," he smiled with adoration before kissing her lips, "So is that a 'yes?'"_

_ She halted her return of the kiss and he pulled away, bracing himself for disappointment._

_ "Not tonight, Jaythen."_

_ His eyes lowered, wounded._

_ "Please don't give me that look—I am supposed to be places early tomorrow morning."_

_ "For what?"_

"_Formality. We are expecting a royal from the Evening Isles to arrive here and there will be a ball the evening after next in their honor. I'm unable to wake with you for a while at least."_

_ This was disheartening news to Jaythen. He rubbed his smooth chin, and thought he should have grown a beard by then for having not shaven for eight months. _

_ "All we can do until then is enjoy these little moments together," she pulled on his hand and drew him close, laying her head into his chest, "I love you."_

_ When they were done whispering with each other, about idle nonsense and dreams of the future, she told him that she had to leave._

_ "Will you meet me tomorrow evening here?" he caught her hand and she lingered._

_ "Yes, but now I bid you goodnight."_

Jaythen was leaning against the bookshop with his back pressed against the wall. He had watched the sky turn to black, and the moon rise, as he remembered that last informal meeting with Nicolette—for the next night was the time she had failed to meet him. He beat his fist on the wall angrily—realizing that night she had probably spent with the Prince of the Evening Isles and no doubt had charmed him as easily as she did Jaythen. She did not even write a letter or brief note to explain, or to apologize for so suddenly causing his heart to break.

He returned inside, once his thoughts cooled. Marv was snuffing out the candles around the main room in his nightclothes and cap. He saw Jaythen search the room and smiled knowingly, "She went to bed."

Jaythen nodded, wondering how Marv could read his intentions so well. He ascended the stairs and entered the small bedroom. It was dark except for the moonbeams that floated through the window. He removed his clothes, all except his long shirt. As soundless as he could be, he quietly made a mark on the bottom of his boot to keep track of how many days it had been since he left Scharberlutes, because he forgot to that morning. Tomorrow would be the twentieth day. He crawled into the bed. Avalyn was already sound asleep and far on the other side of the bed with all the blankets clutched to her greedily.

He should have felt awkward for sharing a bed with a girl that had no interest him, one that could be dragon no less—but as he lay there and considered her, he found himself quite comfortable. He wanted to protect her, after seeing her bravery weaken. She seemed so vulnerable in her sleep, and the moonlight only caused her lovely skin to seem as if made from porcelain, so delicate. If only she would let him hold her—his mind would be more at ease to know she was so near and safe.

Without another thought, he broke the invisible, unspoken line of separation in the bed and curled himself next to her—relishing her warmth and the use of covers that she usually stole away. She didn't move a muscle and he was grateful that she didn't wake and scold him for not staying on his side of the bed. He drifted off to sleep with his face partially buried in her long, golden hair and felt an overwhelming contentment.

---

He felt a stirring underneath his arms, and before he could untangle himself from his sleep and her body, she awoke to find him too close for her comfort.

She shrieked with surprise and rolled away—shrieking once more, as she fell off the bed and landed on the floor, tangled up in the sheets.

"Are you all right?" He peered down nervously, trying to ignore her seething expression.

"I ought to eat you," she grumbled as she tried standing and sorting out the linens.

"You told me you would never eat me," he reminded her.

She opened her mouth to retort but her wit was slow, still obviously sleepy—so she only threw a frown at him, "Still, from now on I shall sleep on the floor."

He sighed, regretting his choice to sleep on her side of the bed—although he felt thoroughly well rested.

He hopped out of the bed and got dressed. They must have slept in because as he left her to escape the covers and be dressed, and descended the stairs—the shop was already open for customers.

"Good morning!" Marv waved.

Jaythen nodded in greeting.

He crossed the shop as the door to the entrance opened and he absently looked toward it curiously.

"Hello again," greeted the lady who had entered, a bit startled.

He nodded politely but then quickly looked at her again, she was the woman in white from the day before. He must have seemed startled also, because she smiled kindly.

"We met yesterday, remember?"

"Yes," he recalled. "Did you find who were looking for?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing here?"

She approached a shelf, "I was looking for something to read."

He studied her, she didn't _seem_ like a witch. Still, he hoped Avalyn stayed upstairs until this lady left—he didn't want her to panic over the woman in white's presence. She couldn't have been after Alys because she said she _had _found who she was looking for. Although, she could have been lying.

"You best be eating breakfast, I'll warrant you want to depart as soon as possible," Marv prodded Jaythen.

_You have no idea_, Jaythen almost laughed out loud at the irony.

"You're going somewhere?" the lady inquired. Her tone was airy and she raised one of her scornful brows, but curiously.

"Aye," he confirmed.

"Where?"

He hesitated, for although he doubted Avalyn, if she was correct about her intuition that this lady was following her, then it would only be too easy to continue to if he revealed that information. He sighed and approached her, pretending to look through the books with her, "I apologize, but I cannot tell you."

She didn't seem offended, only smiled and leaned near him, like she was in on a secret—"Why can't you tell me?"

The way she asked, caused Jaythen to feel foolish—like she was poking fun at him for being slightly ridiculous.

He smirked, "My fiancée—she was startled by you and she believed that you were following her."

The woman in white held her smile and quietly replied, "I'll bet she thinks I'm a witch as well?"

His smile dropped, if her statement proved anything, it was that her presence was _no_ coincidence. He inclined his head and hurriedly turned to go upstairs and warn Avalyn—hating that he had doubted the validity of her initial fear in the first place.

He pushed open the door to see her making the bed. She looked up and regarded him, seeing his spooked expression. "What is it?"

"We must leave!"

"We will soon, after breakfast."

"_Now_."

"What is going on?" she frowned, seeing his agitation.

"The woman in white—she is _here_."

Her eyes rounded to their widest and she opened her mouth but no words could escape at first, she swallowed her fear, "How will we leave without her following?"

Jaythen shook his head, trying to think of something. Perhaps he could tell Marv and have him come up with a plan—he quickly left Avalyn and rushed downstairs.

Marv regarded him strangely and the woman in white was not to be seen.

"Where did she go?"

"Who?"

"The woman I was conversing with."

"She bought a book and left. Are you ill lad?" Marv asked because Jaythen had paled.

"No, no," he breathed, not knowing whether to be relieved or suspicious.

He returned to the room and Avalyn was anxiously waiting for any update.

"She left."

She shook her head, "She must be watching us—if we leave we must go a different direction than our destination, and then fly through the night to lose her—although I've never tried to outrun a witch before," she stood, "No matter what, we cannot lead her toward my mother."

"I agree. Come, let us eat breakfast and then we shall depart."  
She held onto his arm, all her earlier anger gone and preoccupied with the lady as they made their was to breakfast. Marv had prepared them seasonal fruit and hot bread with butter—although the bread was almost cold because they had dallied so long.

He approached them as they finished up their meal and handed Avalyn a wrapped package.

"What is this?" Avalyn asked with intrigue.

"A gift," he smiled.

"Marv, you shouldn't have—"

"But it was so wonderful for you to visit again—I just wanted to give you something to remember me by, besides a coin that I had pulled from your ear. You can consider it an early wedding gift."

Jaythen failed to notice the quick glare cast at him.

Marv cleared the plates from the table and let her set the package down to open it. It was of a good size. Jaythen saw colorful material pop into view and scooted closer to see the contents. When it was fully unwrapped, a folded quilt laid before them.

"Oh!" Avalyn ran her fingers across it with a heartfelt smile of gratitude.

_She does love blankets_, Jaythen silently noted with a grin, reminded of her nightly blanket thievery.

"Thank you so much!" Avalyn stood and embraced the bookkeeper.

"Remember, I must be invited to the wedding," he laughed.

She let go, with only a subtle trace of unhappiness—which Marv took for her displeasure with leaving so soon.

"I hope you find your mother, and if you do, please tell her to write me—to let me know how she has been faring these years."

"I will," Avalyn nodded adamantly as she sat once more.

Marv kissed the top of her head lovingly and then was distracted by incoming customers.

"That was awful nice of him, though he only did this because you _lied_ to him," Avalyn's glare was on the young lord once more.

Jaythen shook his head—"I'm sorry."

With one last embrace of farewell to the bookkeeper, Avalyn and Jaythen stood on the street before the bookshop. He swung the knapsack over shoulder and clutched his stolen sword—which he now considered _his_ because he had no intentions to travel to Scharberlutes to return it.

As they traveled away from the city, he thought about the woman in white. He thought of how Avalyn said she was a witch and how the lady herself, had cryptically admitted she was one. Witches were told to be old and haggish, yet the lady was youthful and had done nothing malicious. How did witches stay so young looking and by what black magic could she have found Avalyn so precisely—within in the vastness of the world?

With the previous thought of Scharberlutes, he stopped walking—his mind suddenly numb at a tugging memory about the human fingers and how the lady who owned them had told him that witches used them for seeking spells. If that was the case, then the woman in white could have easily found Alys by using them and would have avoided the trouble of having Avalyn lead her there.

A sudden fear tightened around his heart as he looked to the girl with green eyes who was quietly walking along the road behind him. The woman in white was not searching for Alys—she had been seeking the girl with green eyes all along—but for what reason and to what end?

"_If you kill one, you can retire from life for each part of their body is drenched in magic and every witch, apothecary, and merchant in this area and in the realm would pay an exorbitant amount of wealth to get their hands on a piece."_

His fear only grew at recalling what the sword vendor had explained. He realized now that Avalyn was thought of as _fey_—and she was…partially. The reason for that was still a mystery.

It didn't help that she had revealed her true nature to all of the market during their escape from the Scharberlutes. There were still many things about their situation that he was unsure of but he clasped his sword tighter and fell into step with her, not wanting to cause her panic by the sudden realization they were in far more danger than Alys would ever be. He only hoped that he could keep her safe from all the evil that could befall them.


	22. Of Luck

Once again they found themselves to be alone on the road. They were heading west but also a bit south too. Griswold was straight north but they were sticking to Avalyn's idea of going the opposite direction. Would they find Avalyn's mother in Griswold? He did hope so, for Avalyn's sake. He wondered if they were being followed and then knew it was probably so—Avalyn was more valuable dead than alive.

He couldn't even bring himself to imagine what would it would be like if she were killed—his mind blocked him from stewing on details but not without a great plummet of his stomach and drying of his saliva.

He watched the land around them cautiously, to keep lookout for any sudden movement. He hoped they would reach a roadside inn before nightfall in order not to have to sleep outside where vulnerable.

Avalyn had been scowling since their departure, deep in thought all the while they had been walking. He wanted to ask her what was the matter but then a thought occurred to him—she hadn't transformed in nearly three days, she must have been growing agitated and thoughts of the white witch surely didn't calm her growing anxiety.

All of a sudden, Avalyn started to hum that tune again, the one he did not know that she had sung while bathing in Scharberlutes and when he found her in the Imperial City gardens.

"You keep on singing that song, what is it?"

She stopped in mid-hum and considered him, "My mother sang it to me. It's a lullaby—and it's often trapped in my head. It has always made me feel better—singing it, somehow letting my mother know that I'm still here—connected to her, though she is not near enough to hear it."

Her words tugged on his heartstrings—so she did carry some hope that her mother still loved her. The song itself seemed to ease her agitation.

"So, Marv called you _Ava_ the entire while we stayed in his company—you never told me you were known by a shortened name."

"I forgot about it, honestly—no one ever called me _Ava_ after I was left with the farmers. It was only an endearment my mother used, and I guess Marv chose to use as well."

Jaythen smiled and wondered, "May I call you Ava?"

"No."

His face fell with disappointment—bitter and bemused. He looked forward and said, "I thought that you trusted me?"

"I do—I just don't want you to call me _that."_

"Why not?"

"It would make me feel uncomfortable."

"_Why_?"

She stared at him so hard that he felt like his soul could be laid before her. He suddenly didn't want to know her answer and averted his eyes—she the unspoken victor of the conversation or lack thereof. She was agitated once again—so he thought of a way to distract it.

"So, can you teach me the song?"

She gave him a doubtful raise of her brows, "You sing?"

He shrugged, "Not usually, I'd just like to know it."

She sang it with the words. He realized the tune was short but when he had previously heard her hum it, it was just the same words and tune over and over until she felt like stopping.

The words were very sweet, and had a tone of love in them. No wonder Avalyn kept it close to her heart. She would remember her mother's voice singing those words to her.

"Now you sing it," she demanded.

"I told you—"

"I taught you, so sing it. Do so for I want to know if I succeeded."

He sighed and cleared his throat, to appease her—

"_If I had words to make a day for you_

_I'd sing you a morning, golden and new_

_I would make this day last for all time_

_And fill the night with moonshine_"

He only sang it once, but raised his brows to hear her judgment.

"Very good," she wore a half-grin.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, thinking of other ways to prolong her transformation, and to keep her preoccupied.

She regarded him suspiciously, "There is no music."

"Ah, well I could hum the tunes like when I first taught you," he held out his arms with an inviting smile, "You know with I teaching you to dance, and your teachings to me for song—I'm sure we could form a rather entertaining duo of minstrels."

She laughed lightly, just the way he had intended her to—and stepped forward into his grasp, with her hand on his shoulder. He took that for consent.

They started off in a minuet, him leading them progressively down the road while managing to sing tune and keep in step. If anything, Avalyn had a real talent for dancing.

When they stopped, she demanded a gavotte and he—although somewhat winded—obliged.

"Now a waltz."

"Oh, Avalyn. We would dizzy ourselves too entirely," he breathed taking a moment to stand still and run his hands through his hair.

"Fine," she simpered and continued forth by herself-dancing alone. At least she was enjoying herself.

They continued forth, Jaythen wondering how he should tell her that the woman in white surely wanted the girl with green eyes rather than her mother. He didn't absolutely _know _for sure if his suspicions were correct but figured there was a slim chance Avalyn _wasn't_ being hunted.

Avalyn was back to humming, but now to one of the waltz tunes from their engagement celebration and she was dragging a stick along the dirt of the path. Often, she went twirling around in different directions so there was an unintentional but intricate design left in a path behind her.

Abruptly, he grabbed her stick and threw it to the side of the road in a harsh motion.

"What was that for?" Avalyn demanded, not at all in her blithe mood—changing to anger so suddenly.

But he was angry with himself, for not thinking of it sooner and there was probably a few miles of the stick's carved path behind them.

"You're making it easier for _her_ to follow us, do you want to get yourself killed?"

Avalyn's eyes were still angry but he saw a worry show through, "I can take care of myself. If she even dares to hurt me, even if she's a witch, I am greater."

Jaythen sighed crossly, "You think you're all these things but the truth is you are still, deep down, a naive girl who needs protecting. When I first met you, it was only by luck I did not accidentally cut your throat open."

Avalyn bristled with contempt, "I don't need _your_ protection. I can do very well on my own. I always have, I've always had to!"

She marched forward but stopped with a snarky laugh, "Unlike you, I have not been coddled my entire life enough to deny me of my confidence, independence, and bravery."

He furrowed his brow at her extraordinary insult and opened his mouth to retort but she whirled around seething, "If anything _my Lord_, _I_ protect _you_ and _that_ has been the way since I first met you. You are a fool to debase me, and you are a fool to anger me.

He suddenly feared her skin would rip apart into her beastly form and then snap him in half with one swift bite. The way she glared at him was like acid on his heart. How did things change for the worst so rapidly—from laughing and dancing—to this argument?

But she didn't change, and she didn't eat him. He relaxed his muscles somewhat. She snatched off her amulet though, and then threw it with all her might high into the sky.

Then, right before his eyes, her human shape twisted abruptly. Her body distorted and grew long and lean—covered in gold scales. Talon nails protruded from a massive claw, catching the tiny jewelry onto one. A deafening roar sounded over the vacant countryside. He fell back, terrified. Pieces of her green dress and white undergarments flittered around him as the dragon spread her sail-like wings and leapt into the air, cutting though it sharply and within seconds was not in his vision any longer.

His heartbeat was battering against his chest and eventually slowed but never back to a content pace He realized miraculously, that he wasn't dead—although she had looked angry enough to kill.

Was that it then? Did he anger her enough for her to leave him? Would she ever—if at all—return?

His answer he knew when he picked up a piece of cloth that had been part of Avalyn's bodice—dyed a deep green—that had landed on his shoulder. She was gone.

A heavy sear cracked its way through his insides, deep into his very being. He wished he wouldn't have been so harsh with her, he wished that she would come back. Why did he have to ruin everything?

With a heavy sigh, he picked himself up and adjusted the knapsack on his shoulder. Now the only thing left for him to do was to go home, to return to Wendbury—a place he would most likely meet his true demise.

* * *

For the first in his life, the young lord was completely and utterly alone. For the first time in twenty or so days, Avalyn was not just a few steps away.

Even though she was angry, and even though she couldn't know—he hoped with all his heart that she would come to no harm and that she would find Alys.

By midday he crossed a fork in the road, one led further south and one led north. He took the northern path, as it would lead home. He wondered how he should explain himself when he arrived back at the castle—explain how he wasn't dead.

_Halden saw there was a dragon, and when he awoke, must have assumed it had eaten me,_ he thought and chuckled, because Halden didn't know that the dragon was the girl with green eyes. At least he had the element of surprise on his side—perhaps he could scare his cousin by convincing him that he was an angry spirit. That thought garnered a slight smirk to spread across his lips but he realized that his idea was foolish. Avalyn was right, he was a fool.

He had anticipated that he would spend most of his time thinking of Nicolette but could not recall any old memories but the ones he had thought of already. He figured he would have remembered every moment he spent with the princess—the girl he had been in love with—but somehow, his mind had given up on her. It was all because of what the herald had said.

"She is Queen of the Evening Isles," his voice filled with loss, broke through the silence around him—startling himself.

He didn't know much about the evening isles, only that it was a large island with smaller islands from what travelers had told. It exported white gold, delicious spices and many fruits and vegetables. The people were said to be suspicious, modest, upright, and godly.

He remembered his brief glimpse of the prince of the Evening Isles—and agreed that the man seemed to adhere to the stereotype.

Evening had started setting in, but he had not come across a traveler's inn, not that he should try spending any more of his money. At least he wasn't in danger of being set upon by the woman in white now that Avalyn was gone. Still, he would gladly have kept the risk if it meant that she should return.

He grew thirsty but couldn't hear any water running around him. He hauled off the knapsack and looked through it. On top of everything was the folded quilt Marv had given them—and it saddened Jaythen that Avalyn would never have a chance to tug it away from him while he slept. He shook his head and continued to the bottom where the remaining potion vials were.

He grabbed one out and listed on the inscription tag was '_Luck_'. He shrugged and threw the contents back into his throat to wash the dryness away. The liquid tasted like strawberries, and while he was at it, made sure to consume every last drop. He licked his lips, speculating how quickly the potion would take effect, as his hair-growth potion took a day.

Well, if it set in quickly, maybe he would find a stream or an inn.

By nightfall, he had found neither.

"Bloody apothecary," he grumbled, searching for a place just off road to sleep. He had been walking all day, he had given up hope on just about everything—the luck potion, Nicolette, Avalyn ever returning, him winning against his cousin, and even sleeping comfortably.

There was a meadow with grass growing partially high, so thieves couldn't see him from the path. He crunched the grass down, and laid the quilt over it and settled onto his back—staring up at the stars. He dug into the knapsack to tear a piece of a loaf of bread Marv had also given them before they left—just in case they weren't to find a place with food. He tossed the bit in his mouth and tried to imagine flying through a vast night sky as a dragon.

Avalyn had once said that it felt amazing to fly, and from the few times Jaythen flew with her as she held him like a piece of prey—he could tell that it was. He nodded off while in his thoughts which turned to dreams.

His eyes snapped open, instinctively—the glow of the moon illuminated a female figure that was staring upon him. She wore a white, silken gown and she regarded him with amusement.

"You," he gasped, sitting up and once, and retreating backward.

"Where is your _fiancée_?"

"You won't find her. You won't hurt her."

She stepped forward and leaned over—close—her dark eyes searching him with a glint of innocence that they both knew she didn't ever possess. He noticed her body, it's shape, and her eerie beauty—eyes so dark of a brown they might have been black, and her even darker locks of hair, that spilled over her shoulders and barely brushed his shoulder from where he was sitting.

"What makes you think I would hurt her?"

She must have been tricking him, luring him to say what Avalyn really was.

"I know what you are, and what you want."

"Oh?"

He only nodded, eyeing his sword that was an arm's length away. If he was fast enough, he could grab it without being intercepted.

"Well, if that's the matter—" she waved her hand and his sword was pushed farther away, into the grass. She had confirmed it, now he was sure she was a witch and that she wanted to kill Avalyn.

He stood to run, to go after it—as it may have been his only chance for survival but she moved unnaturally fast and took a hold of him, pressing her body into his.

"From the start I knew you weren't betrothed, you both are horrible pretenders—now don't be difficult dear, tell me where she is. Tell me and I will not harm thee." She spoke her words against his neck, horribly taunting the savage, impulsive lust inside of him.

He controlled it though—knowing she was doing it on purpose. He shook his head, refusing to answer—instead asked another, perhaps to distract her because he was good enough at that, "How did you find us?"

He pressed lips swelled into a sly smile as she took his jaw and pulled it down so he had to face her, "I'll tell you, if you tell me where your dragon is."

"You first," he tried to match her smile, but he was a fear short of making it. Admittedly, she did know of Avalyn's nature.

"Very well, in good trust I shall tell you—but be warned I will be very angry if you have lied to me." The most frightening thing about the woman in white was that her tone was always light, blithe, and untroubled for speaking such threats or animosities.

He had lied though. He was just hoping he could stall enough time to grab his sword.

"I followed her song."

Jaythen had to take another look at the woman, because he did not understand.

"A being's voice is as unique as the patterns deep in their eyes—none match it. I used her voice to find her—it was rather easy because she is constantly humming or singing."

"How did you even—" he started in hysterically but caught himself, knowing the answer already. "—Obtain her voice?"

"Scharberlutes."

He knew there was a catch for paying with song instead of gold.

"If you have been following us this whole while, why haven't you killed her yet?"

"Dragons are tricky, and she's a special one—I need her to live, at least for the time being but now she is gone so now I need for you to tell me where she is."

Her grasp on his arm had loosened and with a mighty pull he was free, he dove into the grass, landing next to his sword. Before he could grab it, a weight befell him—wrestled with him and pinned him solidly on his back.

Her raven hair looked disheveled but only a concentrated stare was held in her features—eyes a solid black as the moon could offer no distinction between pupil and iris while her head was lowered and away from the moonlight.

"I don't understand. She is not your beloved; she is a dragon who could at any moment tear a whelp like you to pieces. Why protect her?"

"She's my best friend," he raged, but it cooled as he realized, "and she is gone. I know not where she is."

There. He had told the woman the truth.

"I do think that she will return to you—and when she does you will take your sword and slice her—" the woman in white drug one of her nails across his abdomen which gave him uneasy shivers, "Here."

He shook his head, "I would never hurt her."

She then traced her finger upward, across his chest, over his throat until it touched his bottom lip. She was now smiling a broad, power hungry smile that was reminiscent of his father, "You will."

Then she kissed him—with cold stone lips that chilled him to his toes.

Then, his eyes snapped open again. _Again?_

He blinked rapidly, many, many times—bewildered—before he realized it was morning. He sat up slowly with a crick in his back, looked to his side and his sword was there, unmoved.

Birds flew above twittering, and morning dew sprinkled the tips of the grass around him, catching the rising sunlight and causing the meadow to look as if it were filled with diamonds.

He shook his head, had the woman in white only been a dream? It felt real though, the struggle, her lips, and his fear.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eye as he tried to reason what it was. Avalyn had mentioned that she had dreams—well—nightmares with the white witch in them. Perhaps this whole experience of the past two days had caused him to think too much about it and he, in turn was having dreams about it now too.

Anyhow, he was glad for it to be over. He packed up the quilt and began to stuff it in the knapsack, but paused and grabbed the small empty vial from inside it—staring at it.

His face twisted into a sneer and he tossed it over his shoulder, "A lot of bloody _luck_ you did."

* * *

Oh snaps, Jaythen!

BTW on-topic about Dragons: "How to Train Your Dragon" is an amazing movie. You might think it's a kid movie but I'm 23 and was very impressed at the story, the wit, the depth of the characters, THE MUSIC, and the visuals. If you haven't gotten to see it yet, I highly recommend it :) (plus-it has dragons! yee!)


	23. Storms of Great Proportions

Jaythen leaned against a post that was meant to support the horizontal beams of a crude wooden fence. He stared down a path that was smaller and veered off the main road. The fence, to him, indicated that there was something nearby, an inn, a home, someplace that would have shelter and perhaps food.

His loaf of bread had run out only a few days after Avalyn had left—apparently one loaf wouldn't last long to an eighteen year old male no matter how consciously he rationed it. He only found some apple trees along the way afterwards—which could have been a slight stroke of good luck. Still, he was growing weak from the general lack of food.

The most bewildering part of his journey was that he still had not come across an inn. He thought he was traveling on the northern road—the same road merchants used to trade—and those roads most certainly had inns. But no, he was forced to sleep in the grass every night and awake slightly itchy every morning.

He had not seen a trace of Avalyn since she had stormed off in a dragon-fury nearly two weeks prior. He was forced to trudge along the road in solitude—alone with nothing but thoughts of the past. He knew he dwelled too much on things he could not change. He had to face his future someday, no matter how unexpected or dangerous it would be. He sighed, Avalyn had indirectly called him cowardly, dependant, and claimed his confidence was nonexistent—though he wanted to deny it—he knew it was true and he loathed it.

What was bravery though? Stupidly rushing out to kill the scariest monster you could find? Halden was brave but was wretched, and Jaythen did not want to be anything like his foul cousin.

He held his shoulder—the pain from the wolf bite was nearly gone, and only ached when he carried too much weight on it for a long period of time.

It would turn to April soon, and rain showers would increase. They were already common; he had been in two storms on his way home. He would wear the quilt over himself and sit off the side of the road in order not to end up knee-deep in mud. Rain would soak into the material and render the cover soggy by the end. To get it dry again he would ring the water out until it was less heavy, then hold it over his head and run down a stretch of the road so the air would caress the moisture from the fabric.

There were hardly any trees, just fields and meadows on small rolling hills around him. He knew that when he saw a hint of forest he would be nearer to Wendbury.

He had stopped for long enough—what was it to be then? Continue on the main road still in hopes to find an inn or try to find food that might not even exist down the smaller one? He adjusted the knapsack strap to his good shoulder and took a breath before following the smaller one—his stomach was in charge now. It had turned into such a ravenous beast that he would welcome a mutilated elk carcass at his feet.

The fence continued along the side of the smaller path. The dirt looked as though carts had been pulled through it at one point. The road was at least wide enough for a carriage as opposed to the earlier one that seemed large enough for two. _God, a carriage would have been much faster_, _even just a stallion at that_, he groaned inwardly, _or a dragon to fly me_.

He craned his head back and watched a few crows fly overhead '_kaw'-_ing. The sky was a hazy blue, something he wouldn't call clear. The clouds were thin and gray, leading into a billowing conglomeration of darker ones. He knew he was heading into another storm.

He hadn't saw or dreamt of the white witch since the night after Avalyn had departed from him. It was such an odd, horrifying dream. That woman, she slightly haunted his thoughts—always in the back of his mind—he wondering if she really had commanded that he harm the girl with green eyes. Yet, it didn't connect with the witch's statement about keeping Avalyn alive. She had said Avalyn was special and Jaythen couldn't disagree—but had a feeling the woman in white's 'special' was far different from what he thought of.

Avalyn was extraordinary not only because she had the ability to change dragon—but because of all her talents—her singing voice, her wit, her memory, her skill, her knowledge, her bravery. Not to mention her distinctive, green, green, eyes that gave away all of her emotions in one glance.

If Jaythen could even possess a fraction of what Avalyn was inside, then he would be a better person.

It seemed as though she had been with him for years, for all the time he had spent with her—nearly every day for the past month but now that she was gone—he actually missed her horribly. He missed having her to talk with.

Shadow fell across him, and it started to sprinkle moisture then. He pulled out the quilt and wrapped it around his shoulders and over his head as he would a cloak. His old cloak he had tossed away in Scharberlutes because it was so torn and dirty from his tussle with his cousin.

He went off the road and hopped the fence, so not to step in the mud sure to form. Low rumbles of thunder were heard echoing across the sky—it was far away but was coming at him. He was stepping into the storm face on.

The air was colder, and the wind picked up and blew at him so had to fight it. He turned a corner in the path and saw a shelter not far along—a barn of sorts.

_Thank God_, he sighed because the rain had then started pouring hard. He picked up his pace as he crossed the field.

After a few steps he had to halt and strain to listen—there was a faint voice calling out from behind him. He turned around to catch a glance of whom it was but it was hard to see through all the rain. Eventually, he could make out a human figure—female. She was shouting something but the sound of raindrops pelting the ground around them resounded in his ears and obscured it. Water trickled off of his hair and into his face, so he had to constantly wipe at it.

"Jaythen!" it was a clear sound finally, and his whole body tensed with disbelief.

She picked up her skirts and hopped through the wet field grass toward him.

He could only stand there as she approached and stood before him. She didn't seem angry anymore—just stared at him as if he were mad. Perhaps he really was because he shed off the soggy quilt and without a word he embraced her, squeezing her tightly against him. They stood like so as rain pelted upon them.

"Please don't ever leave me like that again."

She didn't respond that she would or wouldn't, but slowly pulled away after a few moments, "I see you haven't fared well in my absence?"

He was suddenly indignant, "Where have you been for the past two weeks?! Were you hurt!? How did you afford new clothes? Where—"she pressed her finger to his lips to shush him.

"I merely went hunting, and then I went to Griswold—"

"You went to Griswold? Did you find—?" he stopped himself at seeing her melancholy expression which was answer enough. Her golden hair was a dull blonde color as the rain slicked it to the sides of her face, drops of water dripped off the ends of her eyelashes and her eyes seemed to be filled with heartbreak.

Upon seeing this, he embraced her once more, "I'm sorry." He wondered what she would do next to find her mother. One thing was for certain though—they needed to get out of the rain before they caught chills.

He grabbed up the quilt and let her go but still had an arm around her shoulder guiding her toward the barn. She halted her steps though when she took notice of the structure. He continued to tug on her arm, trying to lead her forward.

"No."

"We can be dry there," he reminded her—as if somehow she was an idiot and did not know.

"No. I'm not going any further," She turned suddenly, pulling out of his grasp.

She walked away, leaving just as soon as she had arrived. He couldn't just let her go off again—she was behaving so very odd. So he did the only thing he could do—go after her.

They heard the bleating of sheep approach and Jaythen caught site of a herd being moved along toward the barn by a young man. He stopped herding them when he spotted the young lord and the girl with her back turned on them.

"Oi, are you lost sir?" he addressed Jaythen because he was the closest.

"Nay, just seeking shelter from the storm. We were caught unawares." Jaythen nodded his head in greeting, causing more water to pour into his face.

"You can 'probly stay at the barn 'till the rain passes," he offered, and it was just what Jaythen had wanted but Avalyn was causing him difficulties already. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm once more, he drew her close and spoke persistently, "Don't be foolish, we will catch illness if we continue in this manner."

She stubbornly shook her head, frowning and not making any eye contact. Jaythen held his finger up in a momentary gesture at the shepherd—in apology for making him wait in the rain for them. The sheep were mulling around in a confused manner.

The Shepherd approached them, "You'd better get in there before the sheep, otherwise you'll have to crawl over them to reach the ladder to the loft." Jaythen noticed that after the Shepherd said those words, his face fell into a ghostly stare when he got a good look of Avalyn.

"Oh my God," he breathed.

She turned fully to face him, daring him to speak another word despite her dark look.

"Oh my God, Avalyn—you're alive?"

"Yes," she nodded, biting the inside of her cheek—apparently not pleased, "Sorry to disappoint you, _brother_."

Jaythen switched his gaze between them, seeing an obvious contempt. _Brother_? Alys had no other children though and Avalyn had never mentioned any other family members. The Shepherd began to hustle the sheep toward the barn, no longer the polite young man that he had been.

"You best get your arse to the cottage—Ma and Da will want you to explain yourself, and you'd better hope it be a good reason to why you've been gone for a whole month."

Jaythen was absolutely perplexed—finding any situation he had shared with Avalyn to be filled with odd twists, turns, and great mystery. He looked in the direction the lad had pointed and spotted a small cottage— a farmhouse, nestled in front of a part of the Great Forest. His legs stopped moving forward, realizing first, that they were far closer to Wendbury than he thought and secondly, that the Shepherd _wasn't_ Avalyn's brother, but was the child of those farmersthat Alys had abandoned her daughter to so many years ago. They were heading straight toward the very place it had started. He grabbed Avalyn's hand, coaxing her forward—to let her know that he was here this time, and no one could hurt her.

Her feet were planted into the ground as she stared at her childhood home. He pulled on her harder but the wetness of her skin made his grip slippery and he lost it.

"It will be alright, they might feed us. I don't know about you but I've had nothing but apples, bread, and water the last two weeks to fill me."

"I can't go back," she stated.

"It won't be for long, just until the storm passes—anyhow that shepherd will tell them of you if we don't go in there."

Her stance lost its heavy plant—his point must have had gotten through to her. He didn't understand why she was so fearful of mere people—she was far more powerful than any of them.

So they moved toward the cottage but all the while Avalyn's steps were filled with reluctance. They reached the front door, which was a bit dry for the overhanging roof. Jaythen balled his fist and hammered it against the door. Avalyn grabbed his upper arm and pulled herself close behind him as if he were a shield.

The door flung open and a homely girl—younger than them—with frizzy brown hair stood before them, regarding Jaythen curiously but then, she noticed the girl with green eyes and her face broke into a concerned frown, "We thought ye were dead."

Avalyn didn't respond but only matched the girl's frown.

"DA!"

Jaythen was growing tired of waiting to be let in, but nonetheless he stood politely waiting with Avalyn latched onto his arm and rain hitting at their backs.

"What? What are you shoutin' fer Louisa?" a broad man with a beard about the age of his father came into the doorway to see the wet youths.

"God Almighty," he balked at the sight of the drenched girl.

Avalyn and Jaythen were broken apart by the shepherd just arriving—he didn't ask them to move—only tore between them to get inside. He grabbed Avalyn by her wrist while he was at it and pulled her across the threshold. Jaythen felt her grip on his arm try desperately grapple to regain its grasp but it was lost as she was torn away.

"Can you believe she's here? I would have been for certain that dragon had done her in."

Avalyn took her arm out of the shepherd's grasp at once with a vicious jerk. Jaythen could only watch from the doorway, being ignored by all. He wondered why they didn't embrace her and show happiness at knowing she was alive, after all they had raised her since she was young—agreed to take her in even. She had to mean something to these people.

The lady of the house entered the room then, from an adjoining one that was probably the kitchen. She was wiping her hands on an apron but stopped when she saw Avalyn standing at the middle of the room. She stared at Avalyn and Avalyn only stared back.

"Well, why don't you speak?" the young man pushed her forward toward the mother.

"I don't have anything to say to you."

Her tone was not friendly and the father of the household obviously did not appreciate it. He yanked her shoulder roughly so that she faced him and raised his other hand—Avalyn scrunched her eyes shut, waiting for a blow but none came.

A sword was pointed under the man's chin at once and his eyes were bulging with fear as he finally regarded the young lord that stood before them all.

"Don't you even think of striking her," Jaythen seethed, his grip was solid, "Let her go."

The father did so and held up his hands to show he meant no more harm to the girl. Avalyn backed into her protector until her back was pressed against his torso—he had a feeling if he wasn't in the way, nothing would keep her from bolting out the door.

He lowered his sword apprehensively.

"Who are you to come barging into our home and threaten death upon me for disciplining my own deceivin' daughter?" The man asked angrily but wisely didn't advance.

"He is my _husband_," Avalyn spoke quickly with a surprising decisiveness, and held out her hand to display the white gold ring, "He has every right to protect me and you very well know I am not your _daughter_."

The family seemed a bit shocked at her admission, and no one was as shocked as Jaythen—he had never claimed they were wed—engaged, yes—married, never. He had a small wonder of how she still had her ring because she had shed all her possessions but the amulet when she flew off two weeks ago.

"We would ask for a bite to eat and shelter in your barn from the storm, if you would be so kind to oblige—we would be gone as soon as it stops raining."

There was a long, almost painful moment of silence.

The woman nodded slowly, "Aye, you may stay a bit but after the storm passes you best be on your way."

"Ma!" the son objected.

"Shush, before I twist your ear!" she hissed, "I've put a pot of stew on the fire, it'll be ready in an hour or two and I'll have Louisa bring it to ya."

Jaythen took her hint and ushered Avalyn out of the cottage and to the barn. They had to make their way through the flock of sheep that were standing on the hay-covered ground. Avalyn grabbed the rung to a ladder that led to the loft of the barn. Jaythen grabbed one also and climbed up behind her. Her foot suddenly came down on his hand and he let go of the ladder rung with a sharp shout of sudden pain, before glaring up at her. She had done it on purpose and he couldn't even see her since she was above and her skirts obscured all other parts of her body.

He hauled himself up into the loft onto more hay-covered floor, it prickled through his clothes. He looked up to chide Avalyn for stepping on his hand but she was already lying in the corner against a small haystack. She had her back towards him and her whole body gave off the hint of defeat.

He crawled over to her and put his hand on her shoulder to which she just jerked it away as if he was one of _them_.

"Why couldn't you have listened to me?"

He was suddenly irritated, "Listen to you say what exactly? You made nonsensical refusals of being dry and warm. Why did you not say that we were _here_?At least then I could have understood your reasons. If anything we are both at fault for this predicament for our own stubbornness!"

He was so frustrated with her he didn't care if he angered her.

She turned around with a glare but could not say anything. He sensed that she knew he was right.

Then quietly, "Nonetheless, thank you for stopping him."

His frown softened and he scooted closer, "You do know you could have stopped him yourself?"

She shook her head, "I had tried to once, but it only provoked more beatings."

"Why didn't you turn to—?"

"I haven't been able to change dragon for that long—only for the past month or so. I could not defend myself before," she pushed herself away, wanting to be near no one. "I have done everything they have asked me since I was a child! I would chop firewood in the middle of freezing snow, I would fetch water from the well before dawn, and I would clean—even if it took all day. They commanded and I would obey because my mother told me to behave myself! She left me with these people who would beat me for the tiniest of mistakes, because they grew to think of me as a burden. Alys never returned for me. Louisa hates me because I'm prettier than her, and her brother hates me because he's jealous that I was able to read. I was not their kin, but they could have shown me at least a tiny bit of kindness."

His eyes dropped to floor, ashamed at himself for chiding her. She obviously hated it there—a reminder of an abusive childhood.

"The one and only time I was disobedient was when they tried to take my mother's amulet, to sell for money at market. I screamed and screamed and held tight to it. The Da threatened to chop off my fingers but that didn't daunt me because as far as I knew—her amulet was the only hope I had for her returning for me."

He saw she was holding the necklace even now, running her fingers over the amethyst jewel, with a longing sadness.

"May I ask why you told them I was your husband?"

Avalyn stared at him sharply, "Because if they thought you were anything else, they would have tried to keep me here—to return me to the chore horse I was before I ran away. If they are led to believe I am your wife, then you have claim to me more so than they."

"Should you explain yourself?"

"Tell them the truth? That I got so angry after the Da beat me one morning for spilling a bucket of water that I ran off into the woods to find out I was not a human? I was scared, horrified but I found out keeping it subdued only made me volatile. So I left for good—I didn't need them anymore. Then I found _you_, lost in the Great Forest—and after everything, now we are back to my beginning."

Jaythen couldn't say anything in reply to her biting tone. She shook her head, disgusted of either him, her situation, or something else entirely.

"No, it wouldn't matter what my explanation is to them. They don't care—they never _cared_. You saw how indifferent and then hostile they were at seeing me alive."

The rain was beating against the roof, followed by loud thunder, and Jaythen could see water leaking through a few holes. They were also sharing shelter from the storm with a few birds perched on wooden beams holding the ceiling up.

"Soups up!" they heard a voice. Jaythen peered down the climb hole to see the sister holding two crude bowls of stew—which looked more like slop—but his stomach wasn't deterred.

He scurried down to grab them, handing them up to Avalyn's outstretched hand.

"Thank you," he nodded, though his politeness was wearing thin on any members of the farming family after Avalyn's rant.

She made a small curtsy and left them to eat alone.

He joined Avalyn back in the loft. They sat and sipped the stew from the bowls, and it was the most nourishment Jaythen had in two weeks.

"So how did you find me so quickly?"

She stopped sipping the meal, and licked her lips—"It's easy to spot you from high in the sky. I saw you sleeping last night and followed you until it started raining."

He gave her a suspicious look, wondering why she didn't show herself immediately upon her return.

"And Griswold?"

"What about it?"

"What happened there?"

"I didn't find my mother. I asked for her by name, by appearance but no one has seen anyone by her description."

"So what will you do now?"

"Continue on I suppose, though I do not know where to start," she sighed and continued to drink the stew.

After they were done, Jaythen rushed through the rain to return the bowls to the cottage. He informed the family that Avalyn and he would sleep in the barn loft and leave in the morning whether the rain was done or not. They only grumbled slightly but allowed it.

The quilt was still soggy from that afternoon, so Jaythen slung it over another low hanging, wooden beam for it to dry better. He also hung the knapsack there for safekeeping. He settled himself down in the hay to sleep—letting the sound of the rain lull him to sleep.

Awhile later a dangerous sensation awoke him. It prickled up his spine and caused the tiny hairs on his neck to stand on edge. He sat up with an unusual urge to grab his sword and protect himself. A sound of thunder growled above them. Avalyn was laying asleep near him, against a hay bale with her hair slightly tangled in it.

He looked around the loft, it was dark. But he could sense the presence of another so he did grab his sword. He readied it in front of him.

_You will take your sword and slice her _he remembered the chilling demand from the white witch. His eyes landed on Avalyn's mid section which was unprotected. Her arms were slung above her head and grabbing at the hay. He shook his head, telling himself he was being ridiculous.

He saw movement on the other side of the loft and held his sword up, pointed in the direction of movement.

_Slice her_, the insane, lunatic command was tugging in his mind.

"Are you here, _witch?_" Jaythen asked quietly.

For an answer his arms twisted so he was suddenly pointing the tip of the sword on Avalyn and in one horrific moment, he knew what he was being forced to do and could only think of one way to stop it.

"Avalyn! Wake up, before I slay you!"

Her eyes snapped open but she was too late, they bulged in horror as the point of his sword stabbed shallowly into her abdomen and drug across her flesh in a quick motion. She screamed in pain and surprise staring into his eyes with hurt confusion.

"God, forgive me Avalyn—she made me do it," he choked out, trying for all the world to remove himself from her.

The white witch appeared behind him then, placing her hands on his shoulders, her nails slightly digging into his shirt. He wanted to turn his sword on her, he wanted to drop it—remove it from Avalyn's side but he was frozen like so.

"Without you, boy—I could have never have gotten to her. You were the only person in the world she trusted, and that is why you had to be the one to do it," she said, staring manically at the girl with green eyes—more specifically at the blood starting to trickle down Avalyn's side.

Jaythen closed his eyes and shook his head, praying this was another horrible nightmare. If anything, it was too real—it was a living nightmare.

The woman in white pushed him aside and reached for the wounded girl's lesion.

"NO!" Avalyn managed to scream angrily and in that instance, she changed to her greater form, breaking and splintering the wooden structure as her body grew. Sheep were screaming and jumping over one another to escape the terrible beast. Jaythen could move again, and as the floor beneath him collapsed he leapt and grabbed the end of the quilt that was still hanging on the beam. The white witch lost her balance and fell to the floor of the barn. Rain pushed through the broken roof and spilled onto them. Avalyn towered over them, her emerald eyes burning with fury upon the woman in white. She tilted her head back and belted out a roar to deafen all. Then, she opened her jaw and hurled a torrent of fire at the witch, but the witch scrambled up, tearing her white gown in the process. What was left of the barn ignited under Avalyn's flames.

Jaythen looked up at the beam that was holding his weight, the fire was quickly charring it—it would soon break and he would fall quite a way.

The dragon lifted her claw and swiped at the witch but the witch evaded the deathly blow and then straightened her stance, confidant of herself—that she would not die this night.

"This is not over," she said calmly, unnervingly despite the flames that rose behind her causing her to look like a demon out of hell. She snapped her fingers and disappeared.

The beam was seconds from buckling. Jaythen grabbed at the knapsack next to it and managed to sling it over his good shoulder before the beam finally snapped—he shouted as he fell. His body twisted and was tangled in the quilt but did not feel the hard hit of the ground. He was yanked upward. He couldn't see a thing as the thick material was covering him, but he knew that Avalyn had a hold of him.

_She will rip me apart_, he thought for sure. He could hear the beating of her wings, pumping through the air and a constant grumble and then roar that was hard to tell apart from the thunder around them. He would be at her mercy now, and he prepared himself for the sure death that awaited him when they landed. A death he was sure that he deserved because of what he had done to her, no matter the excuse, the bewitched force that made him to. He had known since the day they left the Imperial City that the witch wanted Avalyn, yet he never told her—warned her of his suspicion. It was his fault. If he couldn't find a way to forgive himself for hurting her, then how could she?

* * *

A/N: So this was a dense chapter, but I didn't feel like breaking it into two. So I hope you enjoyed your super-extra-bigger-than-normal, action-packed chapter! Also, if you'd like, drop me a line and tell me what you thought :D


	24. Coming Back Around

The fear-exhaustion and the hunger-weakness caused Jaythen to pass out while he was clutched in the dragon's prison-like talons. The cold, wet quilt was pushed against him, and he laid awkwardly over his sword, it digging into his back.

A few hours later a jerk shook him to consciousness. He felt the rough movement and then fell hard to the ground, landing on his bad shoulder. He shouted and rolled out of the quilt, stopping on the flat of his back and stared up at a barely-lit, but still dark sky that poured rain onto him as though tears were spilling forth from the clouds.

The golden beast landed hard into the earth floor, groaning and folding her wings down—staring at the young lord as she collapsed to the ground—making more sounds that he took for a dragon in pain. He grunted as he rolled over and lifted himself to stand.

Against better judgment he took shaky steps toward his death—toward the dragon. She made a hissing noise, warning him to stay back. He stopped, and limped on his leg a little—a slight twisted feeling in his ankle that must have happened when he fell. He held his shoulder and clenched his teeth but continued to watch her. An awful feeling of guilt washed over him as he stared at the dragon. The dragon rolled onto her side, so her ridged back was toward him and curled her long tail around her foot claws. Then with another mighty grumble and groan from deep within, she shrank. Scales smoothed to flesh, and limbs transformed to human appendages—but still holding herself and still curled into a ball.

"Avalyn!" he cried and hobbled over to her, falling at her side. She was naked, her body soaked with rain and spots of mud. He laid a hand on her to turn her over and see how bad the cut was.

"Don't touch me!" she managed to scream and flung her arm at him, knocking him in the side of the face with a hard force. He staggered backward. Her body was shaking, and he didn't know if it was because she was crying from pain or from absolute fury.

She finally did turn over, with her arms wrapped around herself, and her long legs brought up in front of her, but her waist was in clear view—a long cut graced her flesh, marring her beautiful skin. The skin around the cut was inflamed and red.

He sucked in a breath and tried to go to her. He had to examine it closer to tell whether or not he needed to seek help, to wrap it and treat it, but her gaze stopped him. She was livid and yet frightened, and he could see she had not spilled one tear for the pain or betrayal on his part.

"Let me see the wound, if it is too—"

"Don't bother, it will heal soon on its own—it is just a superficial cut—only used to draw blood, not kill," her voice was raw with loathing, and yet strained.

"We need to get you out of the rain, to dry you—you obviously are suffering—"

"Not from the wound, Jaythen," she hissed and furrowed her brow as she closed her eyes—all of a sudden seeming as exhausted as he.

He shook his head, not understanding what she was getting it, "What do you mean—?"

He wanted her eyes to open, to look at him instead of being closed as if she were shutting him out of her world. After a moment, her eyes snapped open and stared right through him, "You said that you would _never_ hurt me."

It was true—he had told her when he first taught her how to dance in the castle ballroom in what seemed a different time—a lifetime ago. It was before he knew anything of her true nature. He truly never, _willingly_ meant to harm her though.

"You ought to kill me then," he sighed.

She didn't expect him to say such a thing and lifted her head with a suspicious stare, "No."

It was his turn to be shocked at her answer. He looked at her for an explanation to her refusal.

She pulled herself up, and he tried not to gawk at the way her naked body looked so enchanting covered in rain. She was not saying anything. He averted his eyes, "Why not?"

"I heard what you said after you did it—I heard what she said, I saw her. I want to know why and how she got you to do it. I don't believe you would have done it otherwise. You were obviously being controlled. Tell me."

He swallowed, trying to collect his own whirling thoughts. Thoughts of relief that he wasn't to be killed, perhaps she could even forgive him though he couldn't explain anything while she was unknowingly distracting him so. He reached for the quilt and threw at her so she was covered, although it did nothing to keep her dry. The rain had let up its downpour somewhat and was lighter as it fell.

"She came to me in a dream that night after you had left me."

"A _dream _or a _nightmare_?"

"I don't know—it was both. I told her I wouldn't let her hurt you but she said she needed you, that you were special. She demanded that I slice you when you returned to me."

Avalyn raised a brow and after a moment asked, "How did you know she was going to hurt me in the first place?"

He sighed, "I figured out that she wasn't trying to find your mother—she was going after _you_. You see…"

He looked to her and she was staring at him wide-eyed.

"You see, since you are fey—they think they can butcher you for your dragon parts because they are magical and valuable."

She shook her head, "That makes no sense—I'm not fey—I'm human."

"But Avalyn—"

"I am _human_!" she screamed and stared at him with a desperation, trying to convince herself that the dragon part of her was just a phase—that she would return to what she had been prior if she could just find her mother, it would make it go away.

He lowered his voice, wishing it were so, that she was a human but knew the truth—"I'm sorry but you're not. We can't be anything but ourselves, no matter how hard we wish it weren't so."

She hung her head and held tighter to the quilt. Apparently she was thinking of something hard enough to look overly concentrated.

"I should have told you what she did to me in those nightmares."

"The witch?"

"Yes."

"When you were a child?"

She nodded, "I was in a hall of sorts, and I could not move my body even though nothing was holding me down or imprisoned me—the moon was so bright, almost like the sun—with a deep red color and the woman in white had a dagger. She spoke odd words and then she would strike it into my chest and that was when I would wake up screaming."

"In your nightmares she even wanted you slain. How could you have thought that she was after your mother then?"

"I was just a child, I couldn't make sense of it—I knew the nightmares stopped after I was left at the farm. Although now with the recent occurrences—I know it is me that she wants. I just thought she might have been the thing that my mother was running from."

"If that is the case, Alys left you with those farmers in desperation to protect you—to hide you."

"That is if she knew of it. She never mentioned a white witch though—and I never told her about what I saw in those nightmares so I can't even be sure that was the thing she was running from. Also, I would have felt safer with my mother than those people."

"You lost your amulet," he noted sadly, reminded of her mother. He was sad for the loss she would feel, as he saw the bare skin of her neck.

She shook her head, "No, I put them in your knapsack when you went to return the bowls—I had a feeling," she didn't finish her words, only turned her head and only repeated quieter, "I had a feeling."

"Can you stand?" Jaythen wondered.

"Yes, the cut should be healed now," Avalyn opened the quilt at her side to show him her waist—the cut was already closed—which proved to him she wasn't fully human.

"Can you forgive me?"

She stared at him with narrowed eyes and he hated the silence that engulfed them suddenly.

"You are letting me carry that sword from now on."

He let her take it without a fight, but with a heavy sigh because even if she did forgive him—she did not trust him anymore.

"Well let's get along, hopefully we'll come across a place with clothes and food." He grabbed up the knapsack and dug through it to not only find her necklace but her ring too. He handed them to her and she put them on—then dressed only in a quilt and jewelry.

"I could sing for more…" she offered but he turned around suddenly and shook his head back and forth.

"No, the witch can find you by your song. When you sang in Scharberlutes, they kept those songs and the witch somehow uses your singing voice to track you. I'm afraid you cannot sing until we can find a way to evade her for good."

Avalyn nodded but there was a deep sadness in her expression at the thought of not singing.

"I'll think of something," he assured, seeing her downcast look, though he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

* * *

The sun rose and the rain eventually stopped falling, leading them into a rather wet morning.

"You destroyed their barn," Jaythen spoke all of a sudden, coming out of a thought about the farmers. He had tried imagining Avalyn's life at that farm, how horrible it was for her to have such ill feelings toward it.

"Serves them right," there was no remorse in her tone as she stared forward.

"I guess the rain would have extinguished the flames sooner or later," He shrugged, then looked around and asked, "Where are we?"

"North."

He inwardly groaned at her answer—yet another simple direction, and not a specific place. He didn't know how fast dragons flew due to the fact he was either unconscious or was panicking too badly to pay attention when she was taking him somewhere in flight. They could have been anywhere north of Wendbury by the looks of the terrain, but as he spun around looking at the landscape he saw something he wasn't used to seeing from where he was from—mountains.

If they were near the mountains, she must have had passed over Wendbury in her flee. He realized the storm must have been one of a great proportion if it stretched from the southern part of the Great Forest all the way to the mountains. He looked to her, and saw she was shivering slightly from the cold and the wetness. He was not much drier, and could do nothing on his part to warm her. Her lack of clothes brought up another question that had been on his mind.

"How did you find clothes after you left?"

"What?"

"You destroyed your green dress, then showed back wearing a different dress—that is destroyed _now_—but how did you obtain it?"

"I stole it."

"You what?" he looked over his shoulder at her incredulously.

"I had to! I couldn't walk into Griswold naked! I saw a dress about my size, hanging on a line to dry outside of the city on a farm property and took it."

He should have been appalled but realized it was needed. She really couldn't walk into a city without clothes—_especially_ the way she looked without them.

He noted the uncomfortable feel of his clothes—wet and soggy, clinging to his skin, which paired with the northern air, chilled him greatly.

"Take off your shirt," Avalyn made the command from nowhere.

He turned around, "Excuse me?"

"I have an idea for how to dry your clothes," her face was thoughtful, but pleasant and she began to remove herself from the quilt's cloth covering. He stared at her bewildered, once again catching an eyeful of that exquisite skin and flawless figure that would send any man into a tizzy at the sight of her. She removed her jewelry and threw them at him but he was too distracted to properly catch them—how could she have honestly expected him to actually catch them when his eyes were elsewhere? He leaned over to pick them up, still staring at her.

Her skin transformed to that of flawless layers of gold and it did nothing to break his enchantment. Only when her nose was bumping into him did he pay attention. Her head knocked into his chest as gentle as a dragon could try—but still it was with a harder force than he liked.

"What?" he asked, bemused.

Her answer was more bumping at his chest with her snout.

She had wanted him to take his shirt off. He apprehensively unclasped the buckles of the vest he wore and removed it, then untied the cross strings at his neck and slipped off the linen shirt, which only made his body colder as he stood with a bare upper-body in the morning air.

"Well?" he held the shirt out to her and crossed an arm over his chest, which did little to warm him. She poked her dragonhead closer and he let go of his shirt, alarmed and backed away. His shirt hung across the dragon's nostrils and then he saw her start to release smoke from them.

She was using the hot air inside her to smoke the moisture from his shirt. It was actually very clever. He grabbed up the shirt and maneuvered it over the heated points so it dried evenly, and when he put it back on, it was rather warm, although it smelled of smoke.

Avalyn made a dragon-noise in the back of her throat and indicated toward the quilt. He held it up and she did the same drying technique to it. He kept holding it out, figuring she would change back to her human form and wrap herself in the dry, warm quilt but to his surprise she made a move toward his breeches.

"What? No!" He held in a laugh as she blew smoke through her nose as her head pressed against his legs. He leapt away but she followed adamantly trying to dry the rest of his clothes. He stumbled and fell backwards, looking up to the dragon. She cocked her head to the side before snaking her neck closer and finishing what she had started. Jaythen couldn't help but to laugh because the smoke tickled somewhat. By the end, his breeches were dry as well.

"Are you quite done with all your drying?"

She replied in the same dragon-noise as before, and then changed to human—jumping into the quilt that he was holding in front of him again. He wrapped it around her, still staring for an answer with a raised brow. He couldn't understand dragon.

"It is nice to be dry," she stated, with a hint of smile, and put her jewelry on once more.

He was more at ease since their play, although he would never forget what he had done to her. He furiously hoped that the woman in white would not find them again. He supposed if Avalyn didn't sing, the witch would have more difficulty at doing so. They began to climb the hills at the base of the mountains and their leg muscles began to strain and ache from the steep incline. Although, when he turned back to see how high they had gone—he witnessed a breathtaking view of the realm.

"Look," he nodded behind Avalyn, when she stared at him with question to why he had stopped. She did turn around and then saw it too. They were high above the plains and the valleys—they could see a good stretch of the Great Forest even—he knew somewhere within it lay his home. They gawked at the scenery for a few minutes before continuing on.

"Look another farm," Jaythen noted, seeing a small home and a barn.

"Perhaps they have clothes," Avalyn hurried her pace towards it.

No one was around, plowing or sewing the hilly field that surrounded the area. No animal noises were heard either.

_That is strange_, Jaythen mused. They stood in front of the house, debating whether or not to enter. The door was on one hinge, which indicated if people did currently live there, then they were not fearful of bandits setting upon them in the night. They had knocked but there was no answer.

"I don't think anyone is here," Avalyn noted, after pressing her face at the window and seeing a dim interior.

"Still it is their home, we should not enter."

"Jaythen, I don't think anyone has lived here for years, there's dust and cobwebs all over!" She grabbed him and put him in front of the window so he could see for himself. Indeed, the interior was a mess.

"Oh, There must have been a fire! Look!" She pointed above the door at slightly singed wood. Then she touched the door and it swung loosely open, which erased all doubt people were around or even lived in the place.

They saw a rat skitter across the main room at the sound of the door. The room was cluttered, upturned like the owners—however many years ago—were grabbing their belongings before the fire consumed everything.

Avalyn began to go upstairs but Jaythen grabbed her wrist, "Be careful, that wood looks rotten. Watch where you step."

She looked touched his concern but nonetheless tugged her wrist back and stepped lightly. He followed her and because he was heavier, his steps caused the stairs to buckle and his booted foot fell into it. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled at the coincidence.

He pulled his boot out and coughed, "I'll stay down here."

She continued forth and he explored the area outside the cottage, taking in the surroundings. He wondered why they didn't try to rebuild their home—the former owners. They just completely abandoned it after the fire, which was odd. Perhaps they were too poor.

He saw more of the cottage had been burnt as he walked around the outside. He took a look at the barn and stopped. The barn was a feather away from collapsing entirely, slightly slanted and what appeared to be a burned out shell. So the fire must have started in the barn and then spread to the house. He looked at the cottage again—but the fire didn't consume the cottage and the char marks were inconsistent. He had only seen such marks that one day when he was lost in the woods—the day he met Avalyn. The marks on the rocks around them that day had the same burnt shadows of flame licks.

"Jaythen!"

He jumped a little, losing his thoughts and saw Avalyn emerge out of the back door of the home in a rough-spun peasant dress.

"Where did you find that?"

"In a bureau in the upstairs bedroom, clothes were strewn about everywhere—I found this one at the bottom of the pile. It was dusty so I gave it a few good shakes. Otherwise it fits well enough."

She folded up the quilt and gave it to him to stuff in the knapsack. She noticed the barn behind him and narrowed her eyes—"That must have been quite a fire."

He nodded in agreement.

They set off down the small path that lead away from the farm, hoping it led to a city or town. They were now traveling through a thinner wood in the shadow of the mountain.

It was about sundown when they reached a small town, the first civilized place Jaythen had been to since the capital. He breathed a sigh of relief, relishing the thought of a bed and food. A few townspeople were out and about, closing up their shops or just heading home.

Avalyn and Jaythen walked through the main part of the village but could not find an inn. He was growing frustrated and impatient, how much was it to ask for a comfortable surface to sleep on? He had grown up his whole life sleeping in a bed, he missed the feeling terribly.

"Excuse me sir, do you know where we could find an inn?" Jaythen caught up to an old man in shop-worker garb—rolling a single cartwheel along side him.

"Eh? Closest inn is a day away at Griswold," he turned a suspicious eye on them. He spoke in a curt tone, seeming to have no time for the likes of them. The other eye had a patch—which was probably lost it in a work-related accident. Jaythen didn't know what they had done to garner suspicion or rudeness but tried to smile at the unfavorable man his unfavorable news.

They were tired, hungry, and had been traveling like vagabonds for the last two weeks.

"What about here, why isn't there one here?"

"We don't have an inn because we don't get many travelers. The best advice I can give is to ask someone to put you up for the night, but good luck with that sir."

The old, one-eyed man stalked away, apparently done talking to them, and apparently not willing to offer to put them up. Jaythen rubbed his chin and secretly enjoyed the feel of his facial hair—still the feeling was batted away at his growing worry of not finding a safe place to sleep. The nights in the area would still be chilly for a while, and he was not ready to be cold again. If they slept outside, he just _knew_ Avalyn would steal the quilt if they were to share it and leave him a shivering, chattering mess the next morning.

"Where are we?" he asked with an incredulous shout after the old man—he couldn't believe even a small town would not have a place to put up travelers.

"You are in the village of Saint-Toby's-by-the-Mountain!" the man shouted back, not even looking at them as he continued on his way. It seemed this town was slightly unfriendly toward strangers. Jaythen had to wonder why.

* * *

A/N: Could you tell it was building up to that? Now what? By the way, I posted four new character visualizations on my site if you want to see those - The Woman in White, Halden, Nicolette, and a special extra picture :P Hope you enjoyed everything, going to work on the next chapter !


	25. That Old Village

"We could always share the quilt—" Avalyn suggested after a few moments of contemplation.

Jaythen held back a biting laugh, "_I_ could share the quilt, the trick is getting _you _to."

"What do mean by that?"

"You mean to tell me that you don't know that you're a cover hog?"

"I am not!"

He finally did laugh scornfully, which only made her angry that he was belittling her for no reason in the middle of a strange village.

She threw up her hands at his mocking laughter and walked away. She wouldn't tolerate him if he was going to act like an idiot. She saw on the outside that he tried to adapt to rough or crude environments but she knew he would never be more than a spoilt, self-entitled, aristocrat.

"Where are you going!?" he asked indignantly.

"To find your frail body shelter, because you apparently cannot survive in the wilderness," she replied with a harsh insult, stinging him back for laughing at her.

He frowned but did not stop her—knowing that he had been unreasonably unkind. He groaned and dragged his hand over his face with building frustrations. He sighed; he could never win against the girl with green eyes. He inwardly chided himself for even mildly upsetting her.

He stared around at the building structures—very modest, though not a single one indicated that there was wealth to be had in such a place. These people were peasants at the most with farms or trades. There was a small church, a main square, a line of shops—some doubling as homes. Overall a very different feel than any other place he had been to yet in his life.

"Jaythen," Avalyn came back around and a man about a year older than Jaythen was following her, holding a basket. He regarded them, eyeing the man suspiciously, for if he had the intentions to be taken with the girl, he would be sourly disappointed.

"This kind sir might be able to help us," she gestured toward the man who nodded at him. He seemed much friendlier than the old man of Saint Toby's they first saw.

"My parents' cottage has an extra room, since their youngest has left to travel and trade—they would probably put you up for the night. Mother is so very kind."

"Thank you," Jaythen said and followed them.

"My name is Matthias Barlow; I'm the second oldest son to Brannen Barlow."

He said that like it should mean something but Jaythen could only helplessly nod with false impressiveness.

With Matthias's talk of siblings, it reminded Jaythen of his two older sisters that he had never known; one was a stillbirth, and the other only lived for three weeks. He didn't think about it that often but he thought it was one of the reasons his mother was so attached to him—he was her only child that lived to adulthood. Again, thoughts of his mother made his stomach tighten in anxiety—the thought of her upon hearing a dragon had eaten him—or whatever lies of death upon Jaythen, Halden had told to her. He inwardly glowered; he would make his cousin pay for his treachery.

They arrived at a farm just on the edge of the village. The second oldest son rapped on the door and waited. Jaythen took the moment to discreetly hide his sword behind a wheelbarrow, just in case it would worry their potential hosts.

A woman probably the age of Avalyn's own mother answered it and looked at the trio curiously.

"Matthias?" Her tone was pleasant but inquisitive.

"I brought you and Da part of the fish I caught at the lake, also these two need a place to stay for the night—they're lost travelers on route to Griswold."

Her face suddenly broke into sympathy, "Oh, of course you are welcome to stay—I'll go up and ready the room."

Matthias stepped inside and set the basket of fish onto the center table. His father was smoking a pipe and watching them, though took a moment to slap his son on the back in fond greeting, "How's your wife?"

"She's expecting me home, I hope that fish will suit you," Matthias chuckled and bid them all farewell.

Finally the older man's attention landed on the young lord and the girl next to him.

"So you're lost eh?"

"We took the wrong path," Jaythen admitted.

"Where are you from?"

"Wendbury."

The man whistled, "You really did get yourselves lost, you would have certainly come across Griswold before this little village from the Wendbury direction—yet you managed to miss it entirely!"

Jaythen grew embarrassed and could only nod. Avalyn didn't seem to care of their words—she was looking about the room appraisingly.

The lady of the house returned to them then, "You may take the first room on the left—it is where our youngest son lived until very recently. If you younglings are hungry, there's a bit of stew left from supper."

She gestured to a pot on the wood-stove which held the stew.

"How many children do you have?" Jaythen wondered, setting himself at the table.

"We have four children—three lads and a lass," she smiled and served him a bowl of stew to which he tried not consume like he was half-starved. Avalyn joined him and seemed to eat as heartily as he. She hadn't gone hunting in at least two days. The lady began to take out the fish to move them to a cooler place in the cellar where they could keep at their freshest.

"Thank you very much for your kindness, Madam," Jaythen began to stretch his arms, signaling he was heading off to the bed. His stew had been devoured in three bites.

"You may call me Aldercy, my husband is Brennan, and you are most welcome" the woman smiled.

"Thank you, Aldercy—and you too Mr. Barlow," he nodded respectfully at the man who had resumed setting in his chair and smoking his pipe. Though he hadn't lifted a finger to help them as his wife did—his permission for their admittance was to be grateful for enough.

"I am Jaythen and this is Avalyn," he finally introduced them.

"I'll be up in a bit," Avalyn mumbled when he looked to her to see if she would follow. She instead, offered to help Aldercy with moving the fish. He heard the woman start to chatter about how many fish recipes she knew and couldn't help but to smile.

He entered the first room on the left that was on the second floor. It was a small room but at least it had a bed, narrow as it was. It could fit two people rather closely. He took off his vest to get ready to sleep. He smirked as he realized that the luck potion had taken hold on him—for the unfriendly old man insinuated it would be hard luck to find a friendly family to put them up for the night yet they were already welcome guests in the Barlows' household.

He peeked out the single window to the dark pasture behind the cottage. He could see a figure standing by the trees on the far side—a young man with long hair that was staring at the house. Jaythen wondered if he were just a village boy out late and looking to get into mischief, but then the youth turned his head upward and stared directly at the young lord. He became unnerved and averted his eyes, but when he looked back to see if the young man was still there, there was no one—which made Jaythen wonder if he was just so tired that he had imagined it. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

It was the middle of the night when Jaythen awoke again. Something caused him to return to consciousness—probably the wind which had picked up and was causing a nearby tree branch to scratch at the side of the cottage most eerily. His eyes darted to the spot next to him and saw it was empty. He shot up; just because he felt responsible for the girl—and hated to think she was in danger. She wasn't though, for as soon as he sat up he could see she was wrapped in Marv's quilt, sleeping on the floor.

He was puzzled at first but then remembered she had declared that she would sleep on the floor evermore because Jaythen had broken their bed boundary that last night in the Imperial City. He felt bad at seeing her crunched up on the floor and then sighed, knowing what he had to do. He slipped out of the bed and easily picked her up in his arms, then placing her under the covers on the bed. He grabbed the quilt from her, also one of the pillows and took the place on the floor that she had been. He had waited for so long to sleep in a proper bed again, but yet—she was the one who deserved it much more than him. He had betrayed her, he had hurt her—the bed was little retribution, but still it was better than having her sleep on an uncomfortable, cold floor because of him.

"Excuse me, my lord?" Jaythen heard it while he was sleeping—a bit unclear if it were from a lingering dream or happening outside of them. He tenderly opened one eye and noted a nagging pain in his lower back. He saw Avalyn's head peering over the bed's edge down at him. Her green stare was piercing, and she was obviously watching him sleep which was an unnerving thought. Her golden hair was thrown over one shoulder and cascaded downward in waves until the ends brushed the floor right next to him.

"What?"

"How did we switch places?" she raised her brow and gestured to the floor with a swish of her fingers.

"Did you just address me using my title?"

"No."

"Then it was magic."

Her cool look told him that she wasn't convinced by his counterfeit answer.

He yawned before saying, "_I_ moved you all right? You looked uncomfortable and cold and I knew you wouldn't want to share the bed with me so I slept on the floor instead."

He couldn't tell what her next expression was—it was mild surprise, or something equally portrayed as perplexity.

He finally noticed the sound of pattering rain on the window and groaned aloud. He was sick of the rain. He roused himself and got dressed. Avalyn had slept in her dress since she again found herself without undergarments.

"Do you think that Aldercy thinks that we're married?" she asked, her face was now cupped in the palm of her hand as she examined her fingers. She was laying across the bed on her stomach with her knees bent upward and her feet crossed. He would almost say she looked as though she were daydreaming.

"Of course. It would be hard not to notice that expensive ring on your finger and assume otherwise," Jaythen answered as he buckled the straps on his vest. She looked at her hand and splayed her fingers out, staring at it.

"How much was it?"

"Twenty-two hundred gold coin,"

She whipped her head around and gaped, "You've got to be joking."

He shrugged and she slipped off the ring to take a closer look, studying the emerald and the carved white gold that made up the band, "Why ever would you spend so much money on something so trivial?"

"Because I _had_ the money to do it. Besides, it was for a good cause—you were my pretend fiancée, you should have an engagement ring that fit the act."

She made an exasperated sound, whether it was meant for him or for the ring or something else entirely, he couldn't say for sure. He looked upon her, looking upon the ring and tried to gauge what she was thinking by her expression.

"We might as well be married with how much we fight," Avalyn sighed after a moment.

"Are you saying that you'd actually consider such a union?" He wasn't serious, but there was still a curiosity of what she thought of him.

She initially ignored his question and pulled herself up as she placed the ring back onto her finger, "I want to find Alys, I want to know why I am the way I am—marrying you is the last thing in the world that I want."

The tone she said those words with caused Jaythen's heart to sink but not because he wanted her to want to marry him. He just thought that he would mean more to her than a tone of indifference. She certainly meant something to him though he wasn't sure if it was from the will to protect or because she knew so much about him, more so than anyone else. He considered her a very capable friend.

She must have seen his disheartened look and she coughed, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you of Nicolette."

_Nicolette?_ Jaythen hadn't honestly thought of Nicolette for a few days, he changed his expression to bewilderment.

"The girl you're in love with, remember? I'm sorry that you cannot marry her."

He doubted she was _sorry_, for her tone held no sympathy. He reasoned she couldn't sympathize because she knew not what love was or how it felt.

"I doubt we're going anywhere today, might as well keep friendly with our kind hosts," Jaythen nodded toward the rain outside the window and turned to leave Avalyn standing in the room.

He descended the staircase and was greeted with fresh smells of hotcakes and eggs. Aldercy was going about the kitchen in a cheerful manner for such a gloomy morning.

"Good morning," Jaythen coughed to announce his entrance.

"Good morning," she replied, adding a spice of sorts to the eggs that were cooking on a pan over the stovetop, "How did you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you" Jaythen lied. He didn't want to arouse any suspicion that he had to sleep on the floor because the girl he traveled with refused to sleep with him.

"Where is your lady?"

"She'll be down soon I'm sure."

Aldercy served him breakfast which he savored unlike the stew the night before that he had positively gulped down.

"The eggs are—interesting," he noted after chewing on them.

"I put Isle spices on them, gives them a punch of flavor don't you think?"

"Yes," he agreed and sucked in a breath of air at the sheer burning of spice on his tongue. "How did you manage to obtain Isle spice?"

"My youngest son sent it to me from the Evening Isles. Instead of taking up the farm duties like his older brothers and father, Josef decided traveling and trading was what he wanted to do—although it is not a sound source of income. I'm afraid Brennan is still quite angry with him for his decision to leave."

"It was nice of him to think of you and send you such a gift," Jaythen noted, "Where is Mr. Barlow anyhow?"

"He and a few of our farm hands are finishing up the milking of cows in the barn."

Avalyn joined them then, she quietly sat next to Jaythen and Aldercy served her a dish of hotcakes.

"Thank you," Avalyn said politely and ate it promptly. Seeing her eat like so, reminded him that she hadn't been hunting and was probably fighting herself not to transform and take out one of the Barlows' cows.

"So what brings you two to this area of the realm?" Aldercy asked curiously taking a seat across from Jaythen with her own plate of breakfast.

"We are searching for someone," Jaythen replied honestly.

"Oh?" the lady's tone pried for more information.

"My mother," Avalyn gave more, but it wasn't much to satisfy the curiosity.

They could tell Aldercy was very curious at their answer—it wasn't often a young couple wandered into Saint Toby's searching for someone.

"We thought she might have been in Griswold," he added.

"How very peculiar," Aldercy mused.

Avalyn and Jaythen exchanged a look, not very sure about what the lady meant by her comment.

The rest of the day, Jaythen sat around and listened to Avalyn and Aldercy talk of womanly things. He was growing quite bored and fidgety at being cooped up inside—but it was his own fault for not wanting to set foot in the rain.

There was a rough knock on the front door and since Aldercy was occupied with Avalyn, he went to answer it.

Some of the rain splashed onto him from the outside and he saw the unfavorable old man from the day before standing before him. He was wearing a rough-spun cloak that did little of its indented purpose. The man recognized him and an impressed look crossed his face before returning to a permanent frown.

"Barlow I brought your wheel!"

"Brennan is out in the barn at the moment," Aldercy looked up from talking and informed the man in a cold tone.

The man made a low grumbling noise and then spotted Avalyn, his eye lingered on her, squinting as though he recognized her in some way—but Jaythen knew that would be purely impossible. He finally turned around and hauled the wheel toward the barn through the rain.

"We met that man yesterday, he was very unpleasant," Jaythen closed the door and mentioned.

"Old Gower has always been that way—he has had many misfortunes befall him."

"His eye?" Jaythen asked, because the man only had one.

She nodded, "He lost it after trying to put out a fire on the old tin-maker's shop. A piece of ember burnt it and infected it but the misfortune is more than that—his wife left him many years ago and his daughter hates him. He is a miserable old man." Jaythen found it surprising such a friendly lady could hold such distaste in her tone for another.

"I take it you don't feel sorry for him?"

"He's just so very unpleasant, even before the tragedy."

Jaythen had to wonder if she meant Gower's personal tragedy or a bigger, more encompassing tragedy. He couldn't be for certain but did not pry her for details.

Avalyn had been quietly listening but suddenly stood, "Excuse me, I must go out."

"It's raining though, dear!" Aldercy reminded her.

"Its fine, it will be refreshing," Avalyn smiled and it must have reassured the woman because she made no more protests.

Avalyn left out the front door, and Jaythen knew she needed to transform before her anger lashed out. He let her go as well and turned to Aldercy, "She has a few quirks now and then—but it doesn't harm anything."

Aldercy nodded, still staring curiously after the girl.

While Avalyn was away, Aldercy talked of many things while she sewed one of Mr. Barlow's shirts. She liked to talk of her children and Jaythen learned that the three eldest lived in the same village. They were all married except for her youngest son—the traveler. She had been married when she was fifteen, which must have been common in such places. Jaythen was fifteen when he first kissed a girl—one of the castle maids. She was older than him but it was a memorable experience for the young lord.

He told Aldercy about Wendbury, but omitted the fact that he was the de facto Count of it. He did mention his mother was fussy, to which she replied it was only natural. He informed her that his father had recently died and her heart went out to him.

Mr. Barlow returned to the house in time for the noon meal. Aldercy had prepared the fish that Matthias had brought to them the night before. Some farm hands—boys of the village that were also cousins to the family—also joined them along with the Barlows' eldest son, Seth. Seth was four years older than Jaythen and already had three of his own children—making Aldercy to seem the youngest grandmother in existence. There was a whole clan of Barlows in the Saint Toby's area because it was told that Mr. Barlow was the second youngest son of six! Jaythen had come to accept that rural areas had nothing better to than produce offspring.

Avalyn returned a little while after that, damp form the rain but feeling refreshed and pleasant. No one asked her what she had been doing; perhaps they did not care or were too polite to pry. She did not touch her meal which made Jaythen aware that she had killed and eaten. They all sat around the table chatting and laughing as though they were old family friends, despite their differences in class, wealth, and in Avalyn's case—species. Avalyn even seemed to look toward Aldercy as a mother figure though she had known her less than a day. Aldercy was just that sort of a woman—motherly and instantly comforting.

He did notice the farm lads took to staring at the girl with green eyes in a most enamored way. They were younger, and it didn't bother or threaten him that they did so—after all, Avalyn was not his wife and she would have no interest in the likes of them anyway.

He began to then speculate on what Avalyn would like in a man. Did she prefer a hard-worker? Someone strong and caring? Did she like humor or could she love a man who was stern? Did Avalyn even stop to consider any men? Perhaps she was so focused on finding her mother that no other attractions could be had to distract her. He watched her like she was a living portrait, noting everything about the way she was structured. Her lips moved slow and usually did not smile, but he remembered that if and when she smiled—it was beautiful. When she considered a thought, her eyes squinted ever so slightly and when she was intent on listening they were clear and wide.

The rain eventually stopped but Jaythen did not notice as he kept studying the girl with green eyes. She hadn't even noticed him staring at her for the longest of time, and if she had, she showed no indication. She was paying attention to what the rest of the people were saying.

His concentration was harshly interrupted by a frantic farm hand that stumbled through the back door with a face paled to near white.

"What is it lad?" Mr. Barlow frowned and removed his pipe from his mouth that he had been smoking.

"The cattle! One of the cattle…" he was at a loss for words and merely pointed flustered, in the direction of the far pasture. Mr. Barlow was immediately up on his boots and out the door to investigate. The feeling in the room was too anxious to sit and wait to hear what the farm hand was refereeing to. All in the house followed Mr. Barlow and the farm hand through the mud until they reached the body of a mutilated cow in the back pasture. Its body was cracked in half—in a similar way to the elk carcass Jaythen had seen from one of Avalyn's kills.


	26. Strange Instances

Aldercy gasped and immediately averted her eyes. Jaythen's noon meal of fish threatened to regurgitate.

"What devil could have done this?" Mr. Barlow growled. He circled the body, studying it. The loss of a good milking cow could be detrimental to a peasant family's income. Even if Jaythen was a noble, he did care about the people below him and never hoped misfortune upon them.

He turned an angry eye to Avalyn—overall shocked that she would have done such a thing. She looked as surprised as the rest of them but Jaythen figured it was an act to maintain innocence and detour suspicion.

He pulled her out of the small group by her upper-arm and led her to the other side of the barn where there was no one to hear them.

"Ow! What was _that_ for?" Avalyn held her arm and glared up at him.

"How could have done something so brutal to these kind people who have let us share their home and bread? I would have thought better of you, Avalyn," he hissed in a chiding, low tone, furious at her—more furious than he thought he could ever be with her.

She looked taken aback at first then matched his glare, "I _did not_ kill that animal_._"

"If you didn't, then what did? You were gone for at least two hours, and I only assume you had a successful hunt by the way you hardly touched your noon meal."

She shook her head, "I do not know, but it was not me. If you must know, I ate a deer farther up the mountain near the lake. I would not destroy the livelihood of these people just to better my situation. I'm offended you would ever think so little of me."

He swore he saw hurt touch her eyes briefly before she turned on her heel and went back to the others. He shook his head, cursing himself for being so rash and for assuming the worst. However, if she did not kill the cow then something else dangerous was lurking nearby—perhaps event the woman in white. He looked up at the sky—it was still gray and cloudy and there was still moisture in the air despite the absence of rain.

The farm hands helped Mr. Barlow remove the cow carcass beyond the pasture where it wouldn't attract wolves near the living cattle. Jaythen joined Aldercy and Avalyn back in the cottage. Avalyn refused to look at him and of course Aldercy noticed this but was too polite to mention anything.

Mr. Barlow eventually returned at continued smoking his pipe thoughtfully, every so often mumbling to himself how he wondered what had killed his cow.

"So will you depart in the morning? It is much too late to venture out at this time of day and arrive in Griswold before the gates close," Aldercy was already starting dinner.

"Yes, I believe we will. The rain wasn't of much use today," he nodded and glanced at Avalyn. She was helping Aldercy with dinner, chopping vegetables, still having not made eye contact with him since he had falsely accused her.

"I've been glad to have you, most people would be wary of strangers in this village but you two bring a freshness about you. It's nice to see new faces."

"Why are most wary of strangers?" Avalyn wondered as she set out plates. She had gathered all the chopped vegetables in a bowl that Aldercy would use later after she was done heating potatoes in a pot over the fire in the fireplace. She was making a casserole pie of sorts and already Jaythen could imagine the delicious taste.

Aldercy's smile faded, "There was a situation many years ago involving strangers—it was actually quite a mess, and a rather sad tale."

"There aren't any truer words than that," Mr. Barlow added to the conversation. He had been listening intently, despite his mumblings.

"Did it involve that fire at the tin-maker's shop?" Avalyn asked. She must have remembered what the lady had said earlier about Old Gower.

Aldercy nodded and took in a breath, "Twenty years ago—I had a friend. She was a unique character, very fun to play games with and we had been friends since we were young girls. One day a priest arrived from Griswold and tried her for witchcraft. I could hardly believe it, most people couldn't but there was enough evidence against her to condemn her and they left her tied to a stake up by the lake."

"Why? Why didn't they just burn her?" Avalyn asked, apparently having no sympathy for witches.

"Well it was said that a dragon was terrorizing the farmlands in that area and she was to be a sacrifice."

Jaythen saw Avalyn's eyes widen impossibly larger, suddenly very alert and interested in Aldercy's tale at the mention of a dragon.

"Anyhow we thought she'd be taken by the dragon, but three days later she returned in disguise as a boy—if she had a plan for revenge it was thwarted by Gower for he discovered her and then had her tied to the stake in the village square to be burned."

"Then the fire got out of control and caught aflame the tin-maker's shop?" Jaythen finished for her, expecting that to be the reason for the fire.

Aldercy frowned darkly, but it was her husband who answered, "No. The dragon came to save her—she had bewitched it, proving without a doubt that she was a witch. It took her and set most of the village aflame in the process."

Jaythen knew it had to have been the same dragon he had heard the elders of Wendbury talk of that took to terrorizing Griswold all those many years ago. The time frame of events and area of sighting were nearly identical.

"So did she die?" Avalyn asked.

Aldercy shrugged, and again her husband was the one who answered "No. I suppose the witch, Alys is still alive and somewhere within this realm."

_Alys? Did he just say ALYS?_ Jaythen swung around to see if Avalyn had heard the same thing. There was a loud, crashing noise.

He saw that Avalyn had dropped the plates she was setting out. They had broken into many pieces at her feet. Jaythen noted the shock in her eyes, filling them before registering that she had dropped anything. She must have heard the same thing, _the witch Alys._

Aldercy looked very concerned for the girl.

"I'm sorry," Avalyn shook her head in a dazed sort of way, with a wavering voice, and bent over to help pick up the pieces, "I'm sorry."

"Oh dear, you've cut yourself!" Aldercy pointed at her hand and they sawblood start to fill in a minor cut from the place where a dish piece had struck her.

Jaythen hopped up then, "I'll help her. I'm so sorry for the mess. I will pay for it."

"No need, it was only an accident," Aldercy was on her knees and gathering up bits of shard into her apron.

Jaythen reached out to Avalyn but she tore away from him, and out the front door. He sighed and followed her after giving an apologetic look to the Barlows.

She broke into a sprint as soon as she was outside. He cursed and grabbed his sword which he had left under the small wheelbarrow in front of the house. It certainly wasn't safe out there and Avalyn was running off into it somewhere. She darted across the pasture and he picked up speed to keep up with her, going after her like always and not knowing for the life of him what she was planning to do.

She pushed through a bundle of bushes on the far side of the pasture, surrounded by trees. It was growing darker by the second as evening became nightfall and he pressed through the vegetation trying to catch a glimpse of where she might have gone. She had gone no further though. She was bent over, seeming to be in pain—using the base of a near tree to support herself.

He stood behind her for a moment, trying to discern what she was doing. The cut shouldn't have hurt her; it was far shallower than his slice from before. She turned her head to look at him and he could make out tears. She was crying. He had never seen her cry before, even in moments of extreme pain or sadness.

She slid down to the ground, finally collapsing—bringing her knees up and burying her head into her hands. She made audible sobs of misery that tore at his insides.

He approached her carefully, stepping lightly as though she were a wild animal that could be frightened away at the slightest sound. He set his sword against the tree and he too, sat to the ground, just next to her and put his arms around her to console her. She didn't even protest his move or try to fight him. Instead, she flung her arms around his neck and fully moved herself into his torso—clinging to him as if he was the last source of comfort in her world. He laid his chin over her shoulder, realizing that she was experiencing a hurt so deep, he could never fathom it.

"A witch, my mother is a _witch_," she barely whispered after crying her voice ragged. Her tone was a combination of disbelief and anger.

He couldn't disagree. After all, Marv had said that Alys was from the mountains, and it wasn't a common name as far as names went. He had no doubt that the _Alys_ Mr. Barlow had mentioned was the same woman as Avalyn's mother. He held her tight as she continued to sob all of her disappointments into the neck of his shirt.

He wished he could have said anything to make her feel better, but finding out that her mother was of the same variety of thing that had tried to kill her nearly two weeks prior was a staggering revelation and wasn't without its torrid pricks of betrayal.

They sat that way for a few moments and Jaythen took her hand and felt for where the cut should have been—it was already healed. Was that a dragon thing—healing unnaturally fast? Though, she did have a scar from Halden's arrows—which proved that she wasn't fully invincible. He peered down at her, and saw her vulnerability as she pressed her head against him with her eyes closed, body trembling and often sniffling through her dwindling tears. He heard a noise and she did too—they broke apart and stood, waiting for whatever was on the other side of the bushes.

Out of the darkness came a figure. Jaythen grabbed his sword abruptly and held it out—the hair rising on his neck.

"Drop your sword, or I will break it," came the smooth, confidant voice of the figure—a youth no older than Jaythen. It was the adolescent that he had seen just beyond the pasture the other night, he was sure of it. Jaythen did not drop the weapon but lowered it slightly at the young man's tone of voice, doubtfully. Had he been eavesdropping?

"What is your business with us?"

"My business is with _her_," he gestured toward Avalyn, standing just behind Jaythen.

"Me?" she wiped her face of tears and held out her chin, on guard—ready to change if he meant her harm.

The youth brushed past Jaythen and stood in front of Avalyn with a serious frown, "I know _what_ you are."

"How?"

"There has been talk, spreading like wildfire across the countryside about a girl turning dragon. You should know it was rather stupid of you to reveal yourself in Scharberlutes, a place clawing with witches. As we speak, they hunt you and it is only by luck you are here."

_My luck_, Jaythen mentally noted as he thought of the luck potion he had recently consumed.

He hadn't answered her question, and he only insulted her. She frowned and had no trouble duplicating his patronizing tone, "Yes, I realize I am being hunted, by a witch no less. What about you? If you know what I am, then I suppose you mean to kill me as well?"

His eyes narrowed, and his head tilted to study her—considering her, and searching for something. Then he seemed to realize what he had missed and he didn't look like the sort of fellow to ever miss a detail.

"You are of half—you unfortunate creature. No wonder."

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means that you were conceived by a human and a creature of fey. It is rare but possible. You hold all the beauty and charm, and limited advantages of fey but all the imperfections of a human. Your blood does not mix properly and so when you reach of adult age, you will have to choose. You must be prepared to decide between a human or fey existence or else your body will destroy itself from lack of purpose. You're a living contradiction."

Avalyn's face filled with a horrified expression, hardly believing the fact.

"Why are witches hunting me for my parts?"

"No. They hunt you for your _blood_."

"My blood?"

Jaythen remembered the near desperate look on the white witch's face as she reached toward the stream of blood on Avalyn the night in the barn. He believed.

"_Witches_ have always hunted fey creatures for their blood. They drink it to become powerful and beautiful, since they are only humans."

What the youth had said was shocking. She would have never known—and Alys could not have told her and have expected her to understand at such a young age. So the girl with green eyes must have been sired by a fey creature, for Alys was a human—a witch that had somehow, fallen in love with a dragon and Avalyn was the freakish result of the unnatural union. Cursed to be half until she chose one or the other.

"But if I am not truly fey, then what good would it do to kill me for my blood?"

The youth considered her question and finally sighed, "Pure fey blood will only give a witch power and beauty that fades over time—because fey blood cannot mix with human blood. However there was a witches prophecy that foretold that the blood from a being born of half would grant power and beauty everlasting to the witch that consumed it." He leaned closer, "You're blood is by far the most valuable in the world—and they will not stop seeking you until their chalices are stained red."

Avalyn's eyes still held their horror. She habitually grabbed her amulet for comfort—suddenly feeling the need to sit. Jaythen watched intently, making sure the handsome young man made no sly or threatening movements for the girl. The youth's eyes landed on the amulet and all at once the calm in his eyes erupted. He reached forward and grabbed the amulet from her fingers—staring at it, nearly jerking her neck forward.

"_Where_ did you get this amulet?"

Avalyn tried tugging away but he held firm, wanting for an answer. Jaythen stepped forward, "Let her go if you value your life."

The youth's eyes turned towards Jaythen—regarding him as bothersome—but otherwise did not heed his threat nor comply.

"My mother gave it to me! Let go!"

He did so—but they could see he had only let go because he was good and ready.

He studied her very carefully—something changing in his cold stare—to something Jaythen couldn't place to a human emotion, "What is your name?"

"Avalyn."

"Avalyn," He repeated, paused—"And who is your mother?"

"A lady I seek, a _witch, _her name is Alys."

The youth closed his eyes and let out a heavy breath. "Alys?" he repeated again, voice suddenly flat and cold.

"Yes."

"She is your—mother?"

"_Yes, _why are you so concerned?"

As the youth's eyes caught moonlight from looking at anything but Avalyn, Jaythen swore he saw—or thought he saw a hint of violet. He shook his head, he was getting sleepy and his own eyes were playing tricks on him.

"You say you seek her. What does that mean? Did you get separated?" the youth's tone seemed adamant on knowing, odd, for being a complete stranger.

"It means that she abandoned me when I was very young, and I want to know why."

A flicker of anger or some silent rage crossed through his eyes, but only Avalyn was quick enough to notice. "Do you _know _my mother?"

He didn't say anything for a moment and then looked at the sky, "I thought I did."

Jaythen heard his mumbled remark and wondered what he had meant by those words. Also, how could a boy their age have known Alys? Had they met in her travels? Recently? He sounded as though he had known her for ages.

"And I thought I could find her, but I discovered she was a witch. I don't know if I even _want _to find her anymore."

"She is not a witch—and I know where she is."

"What? How?!" Avalyn was amazed and doubtful all at once, looking fierce and ready to pummel the youth with her bare hands if he didn't explain himself.

"She was falsely tried and accused by a corrupt inquisitor. I know she is not a witch."

"She tamed a dragon!"

His stare grew hard, "Yet the dragon couldn't tame her."

Avalyn shook her head at his nonsense and pushed his shoulder in anger, "Where _is _she?"

"If I tell you where, you must bring her back."

Avalyn looked at Jaythen, baffled at his demand.

"Why?"

"You are the only one who can convince her to return."

"Return from where?"

"The Evening Isles."

"How do you know she is in the Isles?"

"Because she is not in this realm or any other."

The girl and young lord exchanged puzzled looks at the youth's cryptic answer. How did he know so much, should they even take his word for it?

"How will I convince her to return?"

"Tell her that 'Selendrile' wishes to speak with her, and she will return," he paused to think further and nodded, "Yes, she will return if you tell her that."

"Why don't you just go to her and be the messenger boy? Why send me?" Avalyn became indignant and stood against the lad. He smiled at her, it was a chilly smile and then he extracted a small bag from his jacket and set it in Avalyn's hands.

"Because as I said, you are the only one who can convince her to return, you are her _daughter_."

Avalyn opened the pouch and gasped at seeing a large sum of gold.

"This isn't a trap?" Jaythen demanded with question.

The lad widened his eyes slightly to convey innocence but Jaythen could tell it was a false, sly act—Halden was very good at such portrayals. "No. The money is for your travel expenses."

Jaythen decided then that he didn't trust the lad's intentions at all. They would go to the Evening Isles in search of Avalyn's mother—but he would be wary every second of the journey, for not only did the Isles contain the peculiar mother but also his first love, Nicolette.

They started on their way back toward the Barlow cottage. Avalyn was already ahead of him, but before Jaythen took a few steps, he felt a surprisingly hard grip on his shoulder, "Do not let any harm befall that girl if _you_ value _your_ life."

By what right did that youth have to threaten Jaythen over the well-being of Avalyn? They had all just met and it wasn't the friendliest of encounters. Jaythen did not trust this conniving youth, and opened his mouth to tell him so—but stopped.

He couldn't convince himself otherwise any longer—for the youth's eyes were a cold, hard, and dangerous display of what could have been the jewel set in Avalyn's amulet.

He snapped his mouth shut and nodded in acquiescence, "No harm shall come to her."

He wasn't promising her safety on the youth's behalf, he was promising himself because he still felt the horrible twists of guilt in his chest at hurting her before—and would not let it happen again.

* * *

So, you will be pleased that this was a double shot--a double shot of drama! I had to break it up into two chapters because it was at 13 pages, and that's a kind of length I leave for final chapters if ever. Again, feel free to drop a line and tell me what you thought.


	27. Setting Sail

The two wayward travelers were sad to say farewell to Aldercy and her family. Jaythen even slipped five gold coins into her apron pocket as she embraced him goodbye. That money would more than make up for any mishaps that had occurred whilst they stayed.

They made sure to get precise directions to the port at Tierbo, the closest sea city with a harbor to find a ship bound for the Evening Isles. It took three days and since they were on the right path this time, came across inns the way there.

"We didn't even catch that youth's name," Jaythen remarked as they entered the city gates. It had grown warmer since Saint Toby's because the season was coming along and they were not near the cold air of the mountains any longer.

"He didn't want to be known—he was so very—odd," Avalyn replied. She was carrying Jaythen's sword again and he had the knapsack.

"I thought you would have been more curious to who he was considering what he told us," Jaythen shrugged.

"If you didn't notice I had other things on my mind other than his identity," she snapped. He was reminded of those other things—a half fey, abandoned, and sought for her blood—she really did have more to worry about than who the lad was.

"Still, he could have been lying."

"There would be no reason for him to lie, I saw it his eyes—he spoke the truth. I don't know how he knew but he did," she replied

He wondered if she saw the violet color of the lad's eyes, but decided not voice his question. Instead he took a breath of sea air—it smelled like fish. He looked over his shoulder and saw there was an open barrel full of fresh-caught tuna.

The port was busy. The spring crops were being heavily exported on merchant and cargo ships. There were many sailors.

They found themselves at the harbor master's office on the street across from the waterfront; it was a small but decently made structure.

"We seek transport to the Isles," Jaythen stated his business to the rough man behind the desk. He must have been in a seas skirmish at one point in his life for Jaythen could see a jagged scar follow his jaw line and he was missing his ring finger on one hand.

The harbor master scanned a list of docked ships and wrote something in ink on a new parchment and handed it to them—"These be the ships that depart to the Isles, find their captains and bargain for passage."

Jaythen was thrown for a loop, for he thought there were regular passenger ships but it seemed none were currently docked so they would have to stay with a crew on one of the merchant ships to travel to the evening Isles. He didn't feel at ease with entering that kind of situation but they had to try and get to the Isles as quickly as possible.

They exited the office about as soon as they had entered, Jaythen looking over the list of ships on the list. There were five.

"Which one sounds the safest?" he let Avalyn look over his shoulder since he knew she could read the names.

"Not the '_Conqueror'_," she reasoned at once.

"What about the '_Vigilante_?'"he suggested in jest.

"It's better than the '_Conqueror_'"

They reached the docks and Jaythen heard Avalyn give an odd-sounding sigh. He looked at her in puzzlement and saw she was staring at the sea like it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

"I thought you had been to the sea before?" he raised a brow.

"It must have been in my dreams because this is so much better," she smiled. It was good to see her smile like that again—she hadn't in a long while. The sea breeze picked up, smelling of salt and twisted Avalyn's hair around her smiling face, also causing gooseflesh prickle up his arms. He coughed, to get them back to the matter at hand—finding a ship.

They were standing next to a vessel with the name '_Atlantian_', which Jaythen saw was on the harbor master's list. They boarded apprehensively. The crew was probably out and about in the city. Jaythen had never been on a sea vessel before but somehow managed to find his way to the Captain's cabin. He lifted his fist and let it drop on the door.

It opened and a hearty man looked at the pair of youths curiously, "Yes? What can I do for you?"

"The harbor master noted that you would be departing to the Evening Isles. We wondered if we could join you, we would pay for passage of course."

The captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "That would be possible we have an extra sleeping compartment since one of our crew has decided to leave his position, and I was hoping to fill it once we reached the Isles. For the two of ye, it'll cost 500 gold coin.

Jaythen nodded, and the Captain led them to his cabin, a nicely furnished room. Jaythen sat at a table and started counting out the pieces to pay.

"What a ravishing lady you are, it will be an honor to assist you" he mused, taking Avalyn's hand and setting his lips on the back of it. She looked startled and stopped herself from tugging it away as if his lips were made of fire. Jaythen smirked without looking up, hearing the action—and not in the least surprised.

"Thank you," she replied.

Jaythen counted five piles of one-hundred and left them on the table for the captain to do what he will with them. He personally showed them to the lower sleeping compartments and to their room. It was not luxurious in the least. A narrower bed than the one at the Barlow's cottage filled up most of the small compartment. He hated to think what that floor would do to his back if he slept on it.

"We depart this afternoon, as soon as all of my crew returns. All the cargo is loaded. The cook serves meals in the galley, and don't be late for the food is usually eaten very quickly by my men."

"Thank you," Jaythen said, although he would have liked a little more luxury for his gold—well the gold that they were to use for travels from the Saint Toby's lad.

Avalyn sat on the bed and set the sword under it where it wasn't visible to anyone walking by.

She sighed, "It is finally happening."

"What?"

She raised a brow and answered, "I believe there is no human on this earth that pays less attention than you."

"_What?_" he was offended, and still curious to what was happening—_specifically_. Of course he knew things were happening but she was so very vague and now she was making it his fault.

"We finally will find my mother, in a place she can be known to be for certain. All this while I have felt as though she is as unattainable as the wind, sliding through my fingers unable to grasp her—but now—_it_ is happening."

He read her tone as anxious and slightly fearful—he was at least glad she narrowed _it_ down to a specific happening.

They toured the galley together, a bigger room in the ship where the crew ate and socialized. They emerged back to the deck and Avalyn immediately went to the side facing to the open sea and leaned against the edge of the ship to stare at it. Jaythen left her and continued exploring around the vessel as he had never been on one before. It was a large ship, and there seemed to be stakes pointing out haphazardly for the ropes that led to the sails to be tied to.

He rounded the port side to the bow and peered over the edge. He felt a hard slap on his back abruptly and nearly wobbled over the edge.

"What is a whelp like you doing on our ship—you're not the watch's replacement are ye?" the same hand grabbed the back of his vest to steady him and flipped him around. He was facing what had to have been part of the crew returning.

They were brawny men—sailors. They had scars, ink marks, and faces full of judgment at Jaythen's less muscular physique.

"Nay, I am a passenger to be delivered to the Isles."

They lost interest in him after that. He rubbed his shoulder and went to find Avalyn. His heart froze when he saw her surrounded by the rest of the crew—gawking at her and trying to make failed passes at her.

"So tell me about yourself?" one of the crew leaned on the edge next to her, making a sly move to be closer.

"I killed a man once," she replied evenly. Jaythen saw the man actually retreat just a little at her words.

The rest of the men laughed thinking she was merely jesting. Jaythen knew she wasn't—she really had killed a man. _Well, she ate him_, he thought\, to be precise. Still there were much too many of them to fight off so he mustered his courage and pushed through the crew. They were not happy to see the leaner young man intrude on the ravishing lady.

He didn't say anything, but grabbed Avalyn around her waist and pulled her close to him before kissing her. She was stunned, and so were the men—but his message was clear—she was not to be sought after, for she was taken.

_But only for pretend_, he reminded himself with a hint of disheartenment as he didn't say anything in reply to her astonished expression. She would have to accept that she had been given more than her one promised kiss, and that he had taken hers without permission.

"I'll be below decks, madam," he gave a slight bow and turned. His heart was beating hard, not believing he had actually made such a bold move. He just wanted those other men to believe that they were together, married—so then she would be safe from their advances.

They must have seen her ring by now, because after Jaythen's act they dispersed to rigging and stern to launch the ship back to the ocean.

He stepped lightly down the creaky stairs to their dingy compartment—knowing that he should try to sleep so he wasn't tired later and have to stay on the floor. He stayed in his garments, not bothering to change and crawled into the bed.

The motion of the ocean was rough, not at all soothing like he had suspected when thinking of the sea. It took him awhile to fall asleep not only because of the rocking but because it was mid afternoon and he was hardly tired. It also only seemed like five minutes of sleep to him when Avalyn woke him by shaking his shoulder.

"_What?_" he turned over and frowned quite grumpily.

"Why are you sleeping? You missed the launch! We're surrounded by water, it's amazing!"

"I'm sorry that I don't share your enthusiasm, but I realized once I saw this bed that sleeping on the floor wasn't an option so I'm sleeping _now_ so you can have the bed later."

"It _is_ later," she pressed her lips together.

"I missed dinner?" he shot up—stomach grumbling.

"Yes, but here—I thought of you," she took his hand and place something wrapped in a napkin into his palm. He unwrapped it and saw it was a biscuit, it wasn't much but he was touched by her gesture.

"Thank you," he said and then stuffed the whole biscuit in his mouth and began to work moisture into the dry bread.

"You can thank me by letting me sleep. I suppose we won't be seeing much of each other this voyage what with your new sleeping hours?" She took a seat next to him, perhaps contemplating shoving him off the bed entirely to take it over. He had to wait a moment for the biscuit to be salivated enough to swallow and speak.

"I guess not, but only a few hours between awake and sleep shall we see each other."

"Like dreams," she mused.

He agreed, although it was because she always seemed like a dream to him. His life was ordinary before she arrived—and now even though untold dangers lurked around him at every corner he was thankful he hadn't woken up yet.

She did finally give him a playful shove and he relinquished the bed so she could sleep. She stayed in her garments as well, although the dress she had found in the abandoned peasants' cottage looked itchy to him. He left the compartment and made his way to the upper deck. The sky was dark and starry; the air was chilly and also filled with moisture. He didn't know what he would do to pass the time until dawn. There was only a hint of differentiation between sea and sky by the rippling waves of the water. The water reflected the night and if he were to suddenly to go mad and jump over the side of the ship, he would have thought he'd fall forever into the stars. He habitually scanned the sky, looking for a shooting star as he did when he was younger—though he could think of nothing to wish for. He knew he still had to be the count, which did not bother his conscious any longer. The only thing that he had trouble with was how Halden had betrayed him, lied, attempted murder, and took a title that did not belong to him.

After awhile of being alone with his thoughts and staring out at the darkness he went back to the compartment. He glanced at Avalyn who seemed to sleep soundly despite the vigorous rocking of the ship, and he grew slightly jealous. He realized that she hadn't chided him for his kiss, perhaps she felt it was necessary, or perhaps she had enjoyed it—he shook his head at her—he never knew what she thought and it was idle to speculate. Though, he still wanted to know what she thought, to know her. He did know her quite well, more than any others but she was endless and so was his curiosity towards her—especially since that night in Saint Toby's.

His reason for returning to the compartment was to see what sort of potions were left from the set had had bought in Scharberlutes.

A twinge of guilt set in his chest, realizing that if he hadn't been so selfish in that realm of wickedness, then Avalyn wouldn't have had to sing—she wouldn't be hunted as she was now. He lightly grabbed the strap of the knapsack and ended up sitting in the empty galley by the light of a lone candle.

There were six left. He squinted as he tried reading the titles by the dim light. Agility, Charm, Healing, Love, Stealth, and Strength.

They all seemed to be of great use except the love potion. Was it meant for one to drink and then everyone would love them or was it to be given to the object of the giver's desire? There were no clearer instructions on that one—a vial of pink liquid. He pulled the cork out and smelled it. It smelled of raspberry tarts. He corked it and set that one back into the knapsack. Since he had eaten no dinner but a biscuit, he decided to drink one of the advantageous potions and picked the dark golden colored liquid of the charm potion. It was sweet like honey but the consistency of wine.

He often thought that he wasn't charming enough—a worry his mother had voiced before he set off to the King's Court. He usually had stumbled over his words trying to voice his thoughts when he was younger. It wasn't that he was stupid, but often his thoughts ran faster through his head than his mouth could recollect.

He laid his head into his arms on the tabletop, wondering how much time had passed. Nights seemed to last much longer than the day, or was it only because he was completely alone?

His thoughts turned to three nights prior when they had encountered the Saint Toby's lad. He wondered who this 'Selendrile' was he had spoke of—obviously someone close—friend or foe—to Alys for if they simply told her he wished to speak with her then she would return to their realm.

He thought about Avalyn and how she was of half, and about what the youth had said about her having to choose between existences. He didn't know the advantages of being a fey creature but it surely outweighed the advantages of a pitiful human being. He realized that just maybe the reason Avalyn was always at odds with changing to dragon was because her body was actually fighting itself—because her blood couldn't mix, exist as one constant flow and perhaps that was why it was so valuable to the white witch. He let out an even more discontented sigh—for Avalyn was nearing adulthood fast and she would have to choose or die. A part of him, deep down, felt that she would never want to be human over the grace and power of a fey when given the choice, a choice she would be making sooner than he would have wished her to.

* * *

A/N: So, I'm really trying NOT to be so evil (according to ALL reviews from the last two chapters I am.) But what is a good story without some cliffhangers and teasers and twists, ey?


	28. Change in the Wind

The voyage to the Isles would take a week, and as soon as Jaythen heard that information, a part of him panicked. The first mate had informed him when he asked that morning. He panicked because he didn't believe that Avalyn could go without changing for a week. The most time he had known for her to stay human was three days and no more. Here, they were already on the second. He cursed himself for not realizing before they set sail. He had doomed everyone on board.

Avalyn joined him in the galley; she stretched her arms with a sleepy grin at seeing him perched at one of the tables and eating oatmeal. She looked absolutely harmless at the moment, but he knew better than to assume the best with her.

"Good morning," she sat next to him with her own bowl of oatmeal.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, truly wondering if she could ignore the toss of the ship in her dreams.

"As well as any night," she shrugged and blew some steam that rose from the food on her spoon before eating it. She chewed thoughtfully, studying him.

"What?"

"You seem more charming than usual this morning,"

He held in a laugh, amazed a potion had worked so fast. He had only spoken one sentence to her and she thought it had made him more charming. She shook her head, seeming to suspect something was off about his unwarranted charm "I suppose you're tired and want to sleep now?"

He nodded, he had spent the rest of the wee hours of morning laying on the deck and watching the stars fade into the sky as the sun rose. It was actually quite breathtaking how it seemed that a giant, unseen paintbrush had slid across the heavens, dousing it with the dawn.

He gave a small yawn in reply, "Don't let the men give you any trouble while I'm asleep."

She bit the inside of her cheek from laughing outwardly at him. Her expression was enough to assure him that she wouldn't.

He made a quick detour on his way back to the bed, searching to see if there was any hidden space that was large enough for Avalyn to change—though even if there was she still wouldn't be able to _hunt_—and that seemed a crucial part of keeping her content.

He gave up and fell into the bed and tried to fall asleep despite the jostling of the ship.

The days went by like so, the two youths always seeming to see each other in those moments between dawn and dusk. They never had much to say—only recounted what they had done whilst the other was asleep. Jaythen had bonded with some of the crew during evenings, playing cards or dice games but never betting too much to lose the rest of their gold coin. Avalyn told that she would watch the sea when she was awake and alone. She had found a dusty old book somewhere on the ship and had began to read it to pass time. She didn't say anything about wanting to change but Jaythen could see the furrow deepen her brow when she was complacent—inwardly fighting and too proud to complain, for what could anyone do?

On the fifth evening, the ship was creaking as per usual as it rocked on the sea. The only light was from dimly lit lanterns that hung from the ceiling of the galley. Jaythen sat on a crate and played cards with some of the off duty crew. He was losing and had lost interest anyway, so he glanced at Avalyn to see what she was doing to pass time. She was frowning as she read that dusty old book. He was very impressed that she had resisted changing to dragon for so long. Though this night, she seemed very concentrated, more so than usual. He could see something was off about her. Not only was she frowning, but she was gulping in breaths as if to calm herself. He flipped his card hand onto the crate as he stood, "I'm out."

"Avalyn?" he crouched beside her. She broke out of her concentration and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him close. He was caught off-guard by her action and nearly fell into her lap, suddenly very fearful for her.

"_Every part of me is struggling to not change_," he whispered in a contained hiss.

They were in trouble. She pushed him back—apparently full of anger and frustration at trying to suppress the creature within her. She snapped the book shut and stood abruptly, "I need air."

He followed her to make sure nothing bad would happen—after all she was the only female aboard their ship. Not that she couldn't take care of herself—she could faster dispose of any man who troubled her than Jaythen could. No incidences had arisen between her and any of the men of the crew. They left her alone for the most part. Man could be dense but none would dare disturb a girl with that of Avalyn's scowl. She swiftly climbed the stairs and emerged on deck, still breathing in gulps of air.

"Is it painful?" He caught up with her.

She whirled around, "It's…_consuming_."

He couldn't understand—she looked desperate, her eyes wide and unsure of what to do. She shook her head back and forth and gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry but I _have_ to turn."

"No!" he cried making a grab for her.

She maneuvered out of his way, "Leave me be, Jaythen you will only get hurt!"

"You will be destroyed if they see what you truly are! These are sailors trained to defend themselves; they will take a harpoon through you!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" her eyes blazed, she unclasped her necklace and tried handing it to him, "Give this to my mother when you find her—at least she will know I was searching for her."

He took it but shook his head, "You _won't _turn, and you _won't _be destroyed."

"You can't tell me what is or isn't going to happen, as if you are the lord of me. I _have_ to turn, and it is something you could never understand!"

She bolted past him, to turn, to be the beast her body was fighting not to become but she had given up. He tried restraining her, but she threw him off—she was blinded in ire, needing to kill to satisfy her inner-demon. She had forced it down for five days and now was going to let it out—she would be discovered and destroyed. She instead pressed her fingers into his neck, nearly suffocating him. Now he was her prey. He knew she didn't mean it though. She was hurting him so he would run from her—to not be further harmed. She was a great storm about to let forth the rains and she wanted him to take shelter and be dry.

He foolishly tried restraining her again, knowing he couldn't do much but to delay the transformation. She would surely sink the ship in her rage. She managed to get free by struggling violently and pushed him to the ground. This action caused her to lose balance and stumble backwards.

"NO! Avalyn, look out!" Jaythen scrambled up, seeing she was about to impale herself on a protruding stake. She managed to clear the fatal blow by falling slightly to the right but it did not save her from getting cut open. The sharp edge tore through the side of her dress and into her skin. She landed on her side, the rage dissipating as she grimaced and held it with both hands pressed tightly.

"Avalyn?" He fell to his knees by her side, "Are you all right?"

She lifted her hand and they saw a rich red liquid smeared across it. She looked at her own blood curiously for a moment—it didn't look special, but it was valuable enough for beings to destroy her for just the tiniest drop.

Her bemused expression didn't last long for then a shock of pain sprang into her features and she began to scream. Her screams were from deep within her—haunting, panicked and full of pain. She closed her hands over the wound and curled herself into a ball. He forced her arms away to examine the wound—it wasn't so deep that it couldn't be healed. It was no deeper than the cut he gave her that was forced by the white witch. He sighed with relief.

"Avalyn, it will heal. All we need to do is clean it—" he tried to explain to calm her frantic shouts of agony but she did not stop. He stared at her, realizing she was far from well—she had paled significantly and the veins in her neck were so strained they were a bright violet underneath her skin.

He looked to the stake and saw her blood on the tip—and then sucked in a sharp breath—seeing that it was made of iron.

_Iron poisons fey._

He had never suspected that disadvantage of fey would be hers as well. It did make sense though and he should have noticed sooner. She had headaches when near large amounts of the metal, and it was probably the reason she told the maids to remove the fire-poker in her guest room at the castle Wendbury.

The iron stake had gone in deep enough to contaminate her blood. Avalyn was shouting no more but breathing heavily with her eyes wide open—staring at nothing in particular—in a shock of some sort.

He quickly grabbed her into his arms and rushed down the stairwell to the sleeping compartments. He knew calling the make-shift physician wouldn't help since she wasn't fully human and they would have no logical clue to why she was suffering so badly. He set her on the bed and paced wildly trying to think of how to save her. First thing he needed to do was clean the wound and stop it from bleeding. He grabbed a bottle of rum he had won in a game of cards and yanked the stopper out with his teeth and steadied her while he poured it over the cut. The alcohol washed her blood away but she started to scream again and dig her nails into the mattress.

She began to twist wildly, trying in anyway to find a comfort from the poison inside her. He placed a hand on her forehead finding perspiration because her body temperature had risen to an almost burning touch. He withdrew his hand in horror—panic setting fully in his chest that she was going to die.

"Avalyn? What do I do? You can't _die_!" he held her head up, looking into her dimming emerald eyes and felt tears threaten the corners of his own. He was supposed to protect her, never to let her be harmed but as he stared at her he felt like a helpless child.

She sucked in another heavy breath and started to lose consciousness as her arm barely lifted to indicate something.

He didn't know what she meant, it could have been delusional pointing but his eyes fell upon where she had indicated. The knapsack was hanging on the post of the bed. He jumped up and opened it, finding what was left of the set of potion vials. He quickly examined all the labels—finding the one to be a potion for healing. He didn't know if it would work—it merely was scripted as 'Heal'. He had no other options though—there was nothing else he could do to save her. He quickly gathered her up so she was leaning against him, yanked out the cork with his teeth and held her chin, forcing her jaw open to pour the potion down her throat. He made sure none was spilled out of her mouth because the only clear instructions the apothecary gave upon its purchase was that every drop must be consumed. He didn't know if it could even work with her, were the potions only for humans or for all living beings? He let her drop to the mattress, and watched intently to see if it worked. It might have because Avalyn was still alive—although gone from world. She lay limp and pale, with miniature tree-stem-like violet spreading up her lovely neck. Her bare neck—he took her necklace and studied the jewel, the same tone as the poisoned veins underneath her skin. He wondered if the color was significant or just coincidence.

If the potion worked as slowly as the hair-growth potion or the luck one she would surely die before the effects took place. Although, the charm potion had taken effect much faster so he held to that thread of hope for her survival. Her breaths were shallow, fast, ragged and her hair stuck damply to her face, neck, and shoulders.

He found a piece of cloth and a bucket of sea water. The water was cool enough though—so he soaked the cloth with water, rung it out and sat by her side—running the cloth over her skin to make sure he didn't lose her. The cooling wouldn't cure her, but he had to make her last moments as comfortable if these really were her last moments.

His eyes were growing tired from straining so hard, never glancing away from her, refusing to leave her alone. She was asleep but not dead yet as he could see the erratic rise and fall of her chest—however though small and infrequent a movement it was.

"You must pull through Avalyn," he found himself saying in a strained yet determined voice he had never used before, just to fill the silence—though she couldn't hear him, "We're almost to the Evening Isles—and you'll be able too see your mother."

It would be tragic if she perished when they were so close to finding Alys.

He swallowed a knot in his throat as he looked upon her sleeping form, "For what it's worth, I don't care what you are and it wouldn't matter anyhow—because I am quite fond of you." He leaned closer, as if he was sharing a secret with her, "And I would be utterly lost without you."

Of course she didn't respond and he withdrew his close proximity and laughed out loud at himself through his deepening sorrow at his foolish belief that his words would somehow cause her to wake up and be cured. No, he shook his head and continued to cool her skin with the wet cloth. He began to nod off and stopped himself from falling over, into the bucket. Avalyn was still unconscious—her body fighting the poison of the iron—hopefully with aid from the potion. He set the cloth into the bucket and removed it from the bedding area. His leg had fallen asleep from sitting in that stiff position next to the bed, he stood and stretched. Instead of leaving her alone, and putting himself on the dirty floor, he threw off his boots and sat himself next to her on the mattress, just in case something should turn for the worst. He would have at least liked her to know that she wouldn't die unloved—for he did care a great deal about her as evident by his actions this night. He hadn't even felt a fraction of emotion at his father's death than the engulfing worry and anxiety at the mere possibility of the death of the girl with green eyes.

He maneuvered her so that her head lay against a pillow at his side and he sat against the headboard propped up. He fell asleep sitting like so and holding her hand, thankful for every heartbeat he felt through it.

The sounds of the sea lulled him out of his sleep. A dull morning light cascaded through the single porthole in the compartment and illuminated the door to the room. He blinked drowsily and his heart nearly stopped beating at remembering what had happened. He held his breath and glanced down to see if Avalyn was better or at least still alive. She slept soundly against him, face half obscured by her hair, and now with a stable intake of breath. She hadn't died, thank God. The potion _had_ worked.

As he looked upon her, he couldn't help but to feel a sweetness towards the girl with green eyes. It was a wonderful feeling, to know she was alive and that he had saved her—finally repaying her for all the times she had helped him. He was so overwhelmed with joy that he couldn't help but to sing gently:

"_If I had words to make a day for you_

_I'd sing you a morning golden and new_

_I would make this day last for all time_

_And fill the night with moonshine_"

She made a soft, incoherent, mumbling noise—hearing the lullaby she could no longer sing herself and snuggled closer into him, which only furthered his endearment of her. Lovely, sleepy, Avalyn—he was truly appreciative to know such a girl, no matter of her unnatural, dangerous nature and undoubtedly appreciative that she was _alive_.

* * *

:3


	29. The Evening Isles

The strangest thing was, that because of the iron in Avalyn's system—it had subdued her need to transform. The fey part of her was wounded, and remained dormant as she recovered. She moved slowly but steadily. Jaythen held onto her arm while she walked around the ship just in case she should feel light-headed and fall. He had returned to his regular sleeping hours for she had returned to trusting him fully after what he had done for her in her darkest hour. They shared the tight bed but she slept close, seeming to draw comfort from him and because of that, she didn't have need to steal the covers away. He had to admit he was relieved at her change of heart, and that she had forgiven him. Every time he looked at her he was reminded how thankful he was that she was alive.

Two more days had passed while they traveled by the ship. During the second day, Jaythen emerged on deck to find a thick fog surrounding them.

"Oi, will this delay us?" he called up the deck to the sailor at the helm. He didn't know how long Avalyn's inner-beast would remain within and knew getting to the isles quickly was the most important thing of all.

"Nay, 'tis normal for the isles. There always be fog around the ports—just how it's always been." The man answered. So the sailors knew how to navigate through it? Jaythen rubbed the end of his chin and let that fact settle. A permanent fog—it appeared to look quite eerie.

"When did we arrive in fog?" he heard from behind him and twisted around to see Avalyn looking around the ship.

"What are you doing out here? You should be in bed—" Jaythen chided sternly for he wasn't convinced she was entirely healed. She only smiled pathetically at his concern but did not make a move to go back to bed.

"I wanted some fresh air—I'm not tired in the least," she tried to convince him otherwise.

"I know, but I just don't want you to—I mean the way you were—" he stumbled over his words as she looked upon him. She understood that her accident had shaken him, as was evident by his constant watch over her—but there was something changed within him toward her. Not fear, not respect but an unexplainable feeling she couldn't describe and he didn't even recognize that he had.

The light around them seemed to dull and take on a magenta-colored hue through the fog—it was growing to be evening. Jaythen inwardly smirked and turned to her, "We enter the Evening Isles at evening."

She stared at him. His smirk vanished and was replaced with embarrassment, "I was trying to play on words. I was trying to be clever."

She did smile then, with only an upward twist of one side of her mouth. She nodded, "Yes, I suppose you tried."

The ship passed through two narrow pillars that protruded from the sea.

"Land ahead!" called a sailor from the rigging. Jaythen doubted he could have seen anything through the fog and then realized those pillars must have been an indicator. The crew began to tie sails around them to slow the momentum of their vessel.

"I suppose we should pack up?" Avalyn said; it wasn't really asked as a question but more stated just to say it and have a reason to depart to the belly of the ship. The Captain was out on deck, overseeing the work of his men and spotted Jaythen, then indicated for the young lord to join him on the bridge.

"Lad, I trust you've had a good stay aboard the _Atlantian_?"

"As well as could be had," Jaythen replied, thinking of the small space and tight bed he had to sleep on.

"Good. When we dock I suppose you and your lady will want to find suitable lodgings. I myself trust the Jeweled Inn in the Evening Garden District. 'Tis a fine place for a young couple and not as expensive as it sounds."

Jaythen nodded, thankful for such a suggestion—after all they were in an entirely different realm that he knew next to nothing about.

The ship slid into the harbor port, a bay area with rocky cliffs before reaching the waterfront docks which were thrice the size of Tierbo's. Jaythen then realized the King's city was on the sea, it was the port and the place of the monarchy's residence.

"Ready?" Avalyn appeared by his side carrying the knapsack over her shoulder and his sword at her side.

He nodded and they stood at the edge, watching the bow slice through the water below. They emerged from the fog and saw a clear view of the city—drenched in a romantic evening light. Perhaps that was the reason it was called the _Evening Isles_, for Jaythen had never witnessed an evening so beautiful in his entire life.

The ship successfully docked and the two youths bid farewell to the Captain and crew before setting off down the connecting plank and into the port.

The people of the isles didn't look much different from the people of Jaythen's realm. Their skin tones were slightly swarthier, and their hair was darker. Avalyn's golden hair turned a few heads, but most people looked at the ground as they traveled about the city. The crowds were dwindling however, because it was dusk and most were headed home for supper. Jaythen boldly asked a passing stranger how to reach the Garden district. They eyed him suspiciously but gave quick directions and Jaythen did note that there was a native accent to be had on the Isles.

They twisted through the streets until they found a definite, official walkway that led around to the different districts. Through the giant arch of a structure they emerged in what had to be the Garden District for there was more greenery than shelter. A three-story, stone structure that had a sign that depicted a jewel with surrounding stars, was the hint they had made it to their first destination.

They trudged in and Jaythen paid the price for lodgings, which was a good amount but still not as much as it could have been for such a place. They were in time to eat the complimentary meal served in the main smoking room. Jaythen welcomed the taste of home cooking that wasn't biscuit, oatmeal, or unidentified slop from the ship galley. The rooms were nice, decently furnished and the bed looked luxurious compared to the narrow dingy one they had slept on for a week.

"So, how do we find Alys?" he wondered as he pulled off his boots.

Avalyn gave an honest shrug, "I suppose we can ask around."

"We can't take too long though, we're in the middle of a city—" he gave her an urging look to which she regarded with bewilderment. "You can't change to dragon here."

"Oh," she sighed, "Well, I haven't had the angry, nagging feeling inside of me since that night."

"It's not as though we can inject you with iron to subdue it again when it does rise. It was a miracle we had that that potion to heal you in the first place. You should go out tonight and transform—hunt—and then return by dawn."

She furrowed her brow, "Refrain from bossing me around if you will. I will do what I think best and right now, I think it best that I sleep."

She wore an irritated frown but he knew it was because he was right. She was not tired in the least; she had been resting the past two days and was probably itching to hunt something. He knew she was, he had come to know her mannerisms well. She just felt too proud to let him win—after all he had been particularly bossy toward her since that night, but it was for her own well-being. He just didn't want to see her hurt again.

He unbuckled his vest and slipped off his shirt, crawling under the covers, "I'll leave door unlatched for your return."

He caught a glimpse of her huff and then smile slightly, thinking he wouldn't catch it. She did leave and she took his sword with her just in case there was anything to trifle with her on the streets before she made it outside the city walls.

The night was quiet, there was no wind—just the calm of the season. There were not crickets either, or if there were they were not in the city for none of their chirps could be heard. Jaythen slept soundly but awoke slightly upon Avalyn's return. She had returned and he could make out her silhouette in the slight moonlight through his cracked eyelids. She laid his sword to the ground and then removed her dress, though all her details were shadowed and unseen. Then, she curled herself into the sheets on the other side of the bed. Jaythen closed his eyes, thinking it were just a wishful dream.

In the dawn he was the one to wake first. He yawned and rubbed his face groggily while running his hand through his hair and peered over at the girl with green eyes. She had stolen the blankets, yet again—but as he saw the bare flesh of her shoulder and arm peeking over them—he knew why she had. She had lain with him while naked, and it sent a shiver of something through him. It had been real—she had undressed before sleeping. What did it mean?

He coughed a few times and prodded her shoulder, trying not to imagine what he knew to be under the covers but failing. Her eyes fluttered open and she turned her head, sleepy but curious as to why he was bothering her so early.

He coughed again, his attention on her face again, "You're naked."

She looked at herself, "Yes."

"_Why?_"

"You try wearing that itchy peasant dress for weeks without a washing. I'd rather not contaminate this lovely bed with whatever it carries. Besides, now you have incentive to buy me some proper undergarments."

"Only if you don't destroy them this time," he remembered she had done so to her last pair after they had departed from the Imperial City.

"I'll try not to," she gave a yawn and turned her back to him and fell back asleep. She had must have been out very late after all. He took that as a hint that he had to go out into the market and shop for ladies under-coverings by himself. He sighed and took a breath of morning air, got up, got dressed, and emptied out the knapsack so he could use it to carry back any goods he should buy.

He found his way to the market district and began to look for clothes. He could use an extra set for all he had was his breeches, linen shirt, and his buckled vest from Scharberlutes. He was used to wearing a different outfit every day but for the past month had been wearing the same clothes. Sometimes they were washed, but usually he could feel the sweat and dirt beneath them on his skin—it felt quite uncomfortable. Although, he noted that his threshold for discomfort had risen significantly, what with his sleeping in hard places and bathing infrequently.

A cathedral's bells began to ring loudly, signifying the end of a mass. He strolled toward the sounds, reminded of home when the bells of the church rang every Sunday. He hadn't heard bells for what seemed a lifetime. A mass of peasants were gathered at the entrance, on their knees and begging.

"What is that all about?" he asked to a person that was standing nearby, gawking.

"On the Sunday Dawn, her Majesty gives gold to the poor. They start gathering in the dark just to get a chance to receive a piece of wealth."

He nodded, the beggars were opportunists—they had to be with so little.

The crowd grew and more of the poor gathered over each other, trying to scramble for the prize.

Out of the doors emerged her Majesty, and Jaythen's heart stopped beating as he remembered that his beloved Nicolette was exactly that, to the Evening Isles. That was why he was looking straight at her so suddenly. She was gorgeous, regal, as she walked along the rows of bowed poor, giving them pieces of Gold. She had many attendants following her. He couldn't believe he was actually looking upon her again.

His feet moved forward and he reached the end of the line. Knowing he couldn't embrace her in public as she was now a figure to be respected. She would probably run out of gold coin by the time she passed the place he stood but he didn't want the gold coin, he wanted to let her know that he was there. Every part of him was bustling with tension, at anticipating her reaction to him.

He bowed slightly, but not as low as the beggars—showing their humbleness toward royalty.

"Your majesty, 'tis a pleasure to see you again," he said as she passed him without a second glance. He looked to the ground the whole while, waiting for her to recognize him. She halted her steps, seeming to know his voice and turned to stare at him. Only for a few seconds though, for she returned on her path. His heart sort of sank in disappointment.

The crowd dissipated and he watched her go, onward towards the palace as she exchanged words with an attendant. Words he could not hear as she was so far away. What would he have to do to get her attention? He saw a stand of fruits and vegetables and momentarily thought of throwing one at her to get her to notice him but figured pelting the Queen with a tomato would cause him some serious trouble.

He could try gaining an audience with her but no doubt would be directed to another palace herald like he was in the Imperial City. He never realized how useful his status was as a noble until it was taken away due to his false death and lack of highbred threads. He continued to look for clothes and undergarments through the market—for that was the reason he was there, though Nicolette was fresh on his mind, constantly distracting his thoughts. He ended up finding undergarments for Avalyn, and buying them despite odd looks from the seller—they probably wondering why a man was buying ladies' underwear. He also found a new shirt and a pair of breeches for himself. Since Avalyn had complained about her dress, he also purchased a new one that was spun of less rough material for her to wear. He was satisfied to know that the purse of gold the Saint Toby's Lad had given them was hardly empty after his purchases.

He folded the garments as best as he could and somehow managed to put them in the knapsack—hoping they wouldn't wrinkle too quickly.

He turned to head back to the inn but a hand grabbed his arm, and he faced a rough looking man—rough but official as seen by his garments.

"You will come with me, sir."

"What is the meaning of—?"

"Silence!"

The man pulled him forward and Jaythen was suddenly very frightened. He hadn't done anything wrong! Why was he being taken? Who was this man? He was pulled along the street but refrained from shouting for help, not that the citizens of the city could help. He saw a long sword sheathed at the man's waist, and that was what kept him quiet, for the man looked like he knew how to handle it. He wished he had his own sword, but he left it at the inn—thinking it unlikely he would be hauled off in the middle of the day by a brute of authority. They finally stopped at a door underneath an over-passing, walkway. The man knocked roughly and the door opened into a corridor. He followed the man, his mind in a whirl—wondering if he was only a few minutes from his own death. Funny, he never expected it this way. He thought for sure it would be by a dragon, a bandit, his own cousin but never by the hand of a foreigner and for an unexplained reason no less. It wasn't fair to not know of his crime.

Avalyn would probably think he had abandoned her, and she would still be without her undergarments—would she find Alys? He hoped so. At least she was far away from the woman in white.

They stopped in front of another door, and Jaythen had to shake away his thoughts to concentrate on what was happening. What _was _happening anyway? The man was not murdering him yet. He only knocked on the door and they waited.

Jaythen bit the inside of his cheek with burning curiosity and impatience, hating this man for dragging it out, torturing his mind with questions. The door was opened and they emerged into a grandly decorated room. It was a modest sized space but overbearing He blinked a few times from the bright light of the chandelier above his head, and looked around at the murals and the white gold floor beneath his feet. There was the pleasant smell of incense—of apple spice, which calmed his nerves. This was no place to murder a man. The man in question hastily left through the same door, closing it behind him and he could barely tell it was even a door for it was disguised as part of the wall of the room.

"Jaythen Calonsis," he heard his name and whipped his head around, wide-eyed, finally noticing the lady that occupied the space as well. She was sitting, stretched out on a lounge bed, looking quite comfortable. Her dress was lavish and long, a royal purple color that contrasted against the lovely cream color of her skin and also caused her auburn hair to stand out. Her voice held a sort of purr that he had known only one girl to ever use when she spoke his name.

"Nicolette."

* * *

A/N: Sorry, but this probably makes me evil again :/


	30. Closure

Jaythen could have sworn his heart had stopped beating—holding its pace, afraid that if it took one more beat the whole illusion would dissipate. It wasn't an illusion though, it wasn't a dream. Nicolette was right there before him, his Nicolette whom he had loved and whom he had not laid eyes on in months.

She gave a small, wry smile at his shock, "Apologies about my stern guardsman, I told him not to spoil the surprise."

"So you _did_ see me?"

"Of course I did. I recognized you as soon as you spoke," she pulled herself up and stood next to where she had been lounging, looking him over, "Although I was shocked to discover you at the end of the beggar's row, not to mention in the Isles altogether."

He couldn't reply, only stare at her—his eyes had missed her face, his ears had missed her voice, his heart had missed her love. She drew closer, "Still it does not matter why, what matters is that you are _here_."

So she assumed the reason he was there, was for her. He didn't correct her.

She snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him close but he stood firm—though did wish to feel her warmth once more. He had to remember she was married, to the King no less and touching her would guarantee his head. She belonged to the King, and stealing anything from royalty was dangerous.

"Nicolette, you know we cannot," he chided.

Her lips pushed into a pout, but did not stop her hold from tightening around him, "You have no idea what court is like here. Everyone is such a bore and there are hardly any dances. I must wake early and pray. Why can't I have any fun?"

He couldn't answer her. He so longed to wipe the sadness away from her face and without another thought, bent down and kissed her. She hadn't anticipated him to act so fast, but was pleased as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When he withdrew his kiss, he knew he had done something regrettable for an uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He felt an anxiety grow if they should be discovered.

"Stay with me for a while, Jaythen," she whispered, near begging for his attentions.

She had to have still loved him if she could sneak any men into her chambers but chose only he to keep her company. He nodded, though apprehensive and let her lead him to sit next to her.

"What do you have in your sack?" she inquired, snatching it away before he could stop her. She opened it and rummaged through the material, and pulled out the ladies' undergarments—looking them over and then raising a questionable brow at the young lord.

He coughed, heat rising in his face and answered, "Those are for a girl I travel with."

Nicolette's playful smile twisted to a concerned frown, "_Girl_?"

"Yes."

She stuffed the garments back into his knapsack, "You told me that you were to be married after you returned to Wendbury, is she the one you are betrothed to?"

He gave a sharp, outward laugh, thinking that Avalyn and he had been betrothed so many times though as a charade. He could honestly answer either way.

"No, we're not. She is a dear friend."

Nicolette's suspicious gaze lifted slightly, "Oh. I should like to meet her."

"I'm afraid that is impossible—you're the Queen—"

She waved her hand, "Nonsense, these people are so unassuming I can walk among them in a small disguise. The only thing they recognize is status here. If I were to wear a simple dress they would not even recognize me. Where are you staying? I could meet with you there."

He told her the name of the inn they were staying at and she knew the place. They sat together a little while more. Apparently her schedule was near empty on Sundays except for when she gave to the ohms to keep the plebeians in good favor to their sovereign.

She laid her head in his lap and it brought a strong nostalgia from the times before. He dared reach out and play with an auburn curl that had fallen loose from her pins.

"I have missed you," he admitted.

She took his hand away from her hair and kissed it, in a teasing, pleasurable sort of way. She was tempting him horribly. "As have I."

He lowered his head and met hers with a forceful kiss, hungrier—he couldn't stand to be so close and not to have her. He was a greedy, foolish young man who had swiped aside the known consequences to his dangerous actions.

The doors flew open suddenly and her ladies rushed in. They weren't surprised to see Jaythen there and were more concerned with hiding him.

"Your majesty, his highness is quickly approaching!" one lady tugged him off and began to push him towards the wall to which there was the secret door. Nicolette hopped up and smoothed her gown, clapping to her attendants to fix up her hair.

"But—" Jaythen protested and grabbed his knapsack. He was ruffled at the interruption.

Nicolette waved at him to be gone with urgency and he couldn't blame her. There would be hell to pay if the King saw a strange man in his lady's bedchamber. Though he had to be annoyed that she brushed him off so swiftly. He was shoved into the dark corridor and the door was closed on him. He peeked through the crack to try and see what was happening on the other side.

"Your highness, what a pleasant surprise!" he heard Nicolette lie.

The second hard grip of that day landed on his shoulder and he almost yelped in surprise but contained himself, knowing any noise would be unfavorable to draw attention to himself.

"This way," it was the stern guardsmen from before, come to lead him away.

"But what if she asks for me? I'm sure it will only take a—"

"Now," the guard interrupted and Jaythen shut his mouth, wilting completely at the fact he couldn't finish what he had started.

He was shoved out of the secret entrance to the tunnels and onto the street. He made his way back to the Jeweled Inn. As soon as he opened the door to his room, Avalyn looked up with a frown from where she lay on the bed.

"It really takes so long to buy clothes?"

"I was caught up with other things," he replied rather grumpily, for Nicolette was still on his mind. She had been so close and once again, was torn away.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at his vague answer.

"Still, while you were _caught up with other things_ for so long, I went searching for my mother."

He raised his brows with anticipation to what her search rendered.

Her frown was kept though, signaling it was naught, "I did not find her or any means to find her. It seems no _Alys_ exists in these Isles."

"Why do we trust the word of that lad from Saint Toby's so greatly? Why couldn't he be lying?"

"You don't trust him? He funded our voyage," Avalyn pointed out.

"Or he could have been sending us someplace where other witches or whatnot could hunt you easily."

She bit her lip, "But he _knew_ my mother."

"He also knows a great deal about your condition and it's consequences," Jaythen argued. He picked up the knapsack and tossed it over to her for her to retrieve her clothes. He unbuckled his vest and slipped off his shirt to change into a newer one, he felt lowly unfashionable in what he had been wearing for the past month, perhaps being around the Queen made him realize how atrocious he looked.

"Do you know what existence you will choose when the time comes?"

He had been wondering since Saint Toby's but had never asked. He couldn't know what compelled him then. She seemed surprised at first but her wide eyes narrowed to a frown.

"How can I know? What are the advantages fey? Lasting life, youth, power? All I have been as human is miserable, and even more so as of half."

He did not like her tone, or the insinuation of her choice. He knew it could not be expected she would choose to stay as human. He felt as though maybe he had a little bit to do with her feeling so miserable. She would have to give up flying, which she seemed to love. Still, she did once say that she wanted to be normal—though as he looked at her he knew she couldn't be if she tried.

"That is a good idea," she nodded at him, he looked down at himself with puzzlement, and when he looked back to her she was waving him away. He realized she meant for him to leave so she could also change clothes. He nodded and vacated the room for her privacy. He turned and set his back against the door, wondering if Nicolette would call for him again. She had told him she wanted to see him, meet Avalyn—but when? What had the King wanted? He bit his lip, his heart sinking once more. He shouldn't bother himself with those thoughts—images of Nicolette's bare body wrapped into another man's arms. It was purely torturous. Though, he tried shifting his thoughts to something less vulgar and they ended up remembering Avalyn's lithe silhouette of that early morning.

"Are you done in there?" he called, breaking his thoughts. Thinking was only getting his conscious into trouble at the moment. The door opened and Avalyn peeked out.

"Yes."

She stood back further into the room as he stepped over the threshold to view her. She twirled in her new dress, which she seemed to like. It was blue—and he remembered it to be her favorite color so that was why he bought it. She looked worlds more comfortable as well.

"You're welcome," he smiled, although she hadn't properly thanked him. But her smile confirmed she was indeed thankful for the dress. Out of all the gowns or dresses he had ever seen her in, his favorite was still that golden gown Devlin had made for their engagement celebration.

"Dance with me," Avalyn commanded, the urge suddenly seeming to strike her. She held out her hand.

"The space is too small," he sighed.

She didn't take his refusal and so leaned forward and grabbed his hands, forcing him closer, "Dance in place then."

He nodded, and positioned his hands for an allemande but was not used to such an unconventional dancing experience. She took the lead, and twisted them around the bed in the middle of the room.

"Do you think Alys is here at all?" Jaythen murmured. He had always had the doubt for there was just something so deceitful about that Saint Toby's youth. He never voiced his thoughts along the way, just in case he had been wrong. He could tell his dancing partner was losing her hope of finding her mother. His words had severely diminished the cheer she gleaned off of dancing. He spun her under his arms and dipped her low, brows raised, waiting for an answer.

The expression on her face was one that he wished he had never been the cause of. He could see all her insecurities if what he implied were true: her loneliness, her hopelessness, her withered determination. The longer and longer she went without finding Alys only added to her insecurities. Jaythen pulled her up suddenly into an embrace, perhaps to apologize for his tone, and perhaps because he hated the thought of Avalyn being alone in the world.

"There will always be a place for you at Wendbury," he promised. He promised although he was not for certain. His cousin might slay him, his mother might turn Avalyn away if she would was no longer his fiancée, and there was no certainty that Jaythen even had a place in his home anymore—not while Halden lived.

He took a deep breath and released her.

"Thank you, but I _will_ find my mother. I have to."

He nodded, impressed at her tenaciousness, for that might have been the only thing to drive her to continue her quest.

He sat down and added any marks on the bottom of his boot that he had failed to scribe along their journey. He counted forty-two days, but there might have been more that he had forgotten. The sole of his boot looked ridiculous with so many tick marks etched into it.

A sharp knock was heard on their door and Avalyn curiously opened it and stood back with a surprised gasp. Jaythen recognized the stern guardsman immediately and he motioned for the cloaked lady directly behind him to enter. Jaythen's insides tightened with a mix of emotion at seeing her pull down her hood and smile at him.

"Sorry about that interruption, the King waits for no one," Nicolette giggled as if it was an inside joke to her and her alone.

Avalyn regarded the royal young woman with a frown, albeit a puzzled one.

"Ah, please introduce me Jaythen, don't just stand there!" Nicolette's attention turned towards Avalyn.

He coughed, feeling slightly as if the moment were too surreal, "Avalyn, I would like to introduce you to her Majesty, Nicolette, former princess and current Queen of the Evening Isles."

Jaythen saw Avalyn's eyes widen impossibly larger and more emotions than one catch to reflect in them, though they were too fast for him to decipher.

"And your Majesty, please be introduced to Avalyn, my dear friend." He wisely did not add the false descriptor of 'Prition' for the Queen could easily know if that was untrue.

Avalyn sharply gave him a look, to which he just shrugged at—unknowing of what she was trying to convey silently.

"Oh, you are a pretty thing. Jaythen failed to mention how exquisite his _dear friend_ was."

Suddenly there was a tone in Nicolette's voice that made Jaythen feel as though she were displeased with him.

Avalyn gave her a customary curtsy, "Thank you, Majesty. Jaythen_ fails_ to mention many things."

He heard an identical tone now in Avalyn's voice. It was clear they were both displeased at him for some reason, and that they were even more displeased at the others' being there, yet trying to hide it through counterfeit smiles and tones of pleasantry.

"You may leave now my dear, I wish to speak with the Lord in private," Nicolette spoke lightly with a false smile.

Avalyn looked struck and followed the motion of Nicolette's stern guardsman. She seemed dazed as well but before she lifted her remaining foot off the threshold, she spun around "Before you do that, may I talk to him first, your majesty?" Her green eyes blazed, sending a chill down Jaythen's spine that eerily reminded him of the times before she transformed to dragon.

Nicolette opened her mouth to reply, apparently put off at the lesser girl's impudence but Jaythen quickly pecked the queen on her lips to distract her and smiled, "Let her, it should take no time at all."

She nodded in permission and signaled for her guard to also vacate the room. Avalyn stepped back into the room and as soon as the door was closed she whirled on him with a scowl, "So, I can only guess what _other_ things you were caught up with on your way to market."

"I apologize, I didn't think she would call for me so soo—" Jaythen tried to explain.

"I don't care. What compelled you to, for once introduce me as what I am and not as your charade?"

Did he detect a hint of jealousy in her voice? Perhaps she was just rattled that he had omitted his doings from her, or perhaps she was just annoyed that he let himself become distracted when he was supposed to be looking for Alys. Either way he did not understand her sudden discontent.

"Why are you so filled with ire? You have never liked being introduced as my bride or my fiancée, and now that I haven't you're still just as displeased. Is it not what you wanted?"

Her frown softened and she replied quietly, "Yes. You're right."

She maneuvered herself to the door without another word and curtsied to Nicolette who was waiting impatiently for her to leave.

Nicolette was just as filled with much ire, as she re-entered and immediately demanded, "You lied to me, she is something more to you. There is only one bed."

"Because I sleep on the floor," Jaythen said in half-truth. He hadn't slept on the floor since Saint Toby's but had a feeling he would be doing it more so from now on.

Nicolette's frown softened as well, and Jaythen noted that women's moods were remarkably similar in pattern.

"Oh. So why do you travel with her? You do know it is rather scandalous for you to be unchaperoned as you travel with such a lovely young thing?"

"I am aiding her while she seeks her mother."

"What a gallant lord you are," she murmured with admiration. She moved forward and threw her arms around him, one of her more frequent advances on the lord when they had been involved. "What happened to you? Why have you been reduced to commoner clothes and ways of travel?"

He swallowed, wondering if he should really tell her all the unfortunate circumstances of how he came to be there. But a feeling caught in him, the one that had plagued him since he had left the Imperial City those many, many months ago.

"Answer me this first—why did you not meet with me that last night? My heart broke, and I was left with no answers the next evening as all feasted joyously and you boasted an engagement ring with hundreds of diamonds."

Her blithe expression faded and she sighed, still so near and so taunting—her presence caused his mind to dance of how it had been with her, being with her, losing her even.

"I didn't meet you that night because I was too busy crying. I cried all night because I knew you would find out and I couldn't get away to warn you. I cried because we had to end it, and I wanted you for my own. I saw you leave the next night—the feast after father's announcement."

"So you were forced to marry him?" He felt akin to her suffering.

"Yes, I always knew I would have to, but it was you that held my heart."

There was no doubt they had strong feelings toward each other in those times before, and perhaps he should have felt satisfied with her answer but her words caused his feelings to turn.

"You knew you were to be married to him the whole time we were together?"

She pouted her lips, averting her eyes. He knew it to be true. He realized that she had used him for her own ends—a man she could freely choose to love out of an instinct to rebel from her set destiny. She was selfish and she was spoiled to have even initiated a romance between them when she knew it would only end in heartbreak. He frowned deeply at the reveal.

He felt horribly guilty, recognizing he had basically used Avalyn in the same way. He was selfish just as Nicolette had been, convincing the poor girl to stay and play in a charade she had wanted no part of just so he wouldn't be troubled by his family to marry. She was right in always calling him spoiled and cowardly. He was. He was disgusted with himself.

Suddenly nothing was more urgent than for him to apologize to Avalyn. He made a move to leave but Nicolette moved closer and gave him a soft kiss, and he closed his eyes—it throwing his body into a pleasurable memory—but it did not outshine the great feeling of care he held for the girl with green eyes. Was it just care that caused him to stay with her, attempt to protect her, even cause him to be possessive of her? What was it that had compelled him to say '_yes'_ when a girl who could turn to dragon asked him to come with her? Deep in the hollows of his being, he knew that those moments he spent with Avalyn held far more excitement and emotion than any he had with the woman who was kissing him. His eyes snapped open, to an abrupt, concise realization.

He was in love with Avalyn—he had been for quite some time but never fully understood what it was. It was a love that ran deeper and stronger than anything he had felt for the former princess. Perhaps he was never in love with Nicolette, just supposed he ought to have been. Nicolette was beautiful and powerful, and her attentions were easy to be enraptured in. He broke Nicolette's kiss by placing his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her away gently. She gave him annoyed frown—waiting for the reason to his discontent.

"Unfortunately," he spoke slowly, and licked his lips, trying to gather his thoughts into words, "you have dropped mine. Another has found it, put the pieces back together, and in turn has mended my will to love, a far greater love than I ever had for you. My sincerest apologies, your Majesty, but I can hold your heart no longer."

He really couldn't be bothered with her reaction, for what mattered most of all was finding Avalyn and apologizing as well as telling her the truth of his feelings.

Nicolette made a face of twisted disappointment before she started to scream. She claimed that he was a liar, that she hated him. She began to cry as he turned his back on her, promising that she would leave the Evening Isles if Jaythen would love her again. They both knew it was impossible, that she was just now making empty bargains to keep what she had. When he did not reply—because she hardly paused between breaths—she slumped to the floor and laid her head in her hands and told him to leave. She went through the stages of grief swiftly and when Jaythen was over the threshold, he knew she had accepted his declaration by asking, "Why did you even seek me out?"

He thought hard about his reason and then turned his head over his shoulder, "For closure."


	31. The Lost and the Found

His heart was filled to the brim, for the first time in a long time he felt happy and free. He didn't care what she really was, all he knew was that he loved the girl with green eyes, unconditionally. Hopefully she would return his feelings but first thing was first—he had to find her. He had to explain himself and apologize for his foolish behavior.

He willed the girl with green eyes to be seen within the crowds of the city. She hadn't been waiting in the inn when he ended his conversation with the Queen, so the young lord took off into the city. He asked a few people if they had seen her but they had not. They would have surely noticed her she even passed by.

Finally the evening darkened the sky and he was forced to retreat back to the inn, figuring she would have returned by then. Hopefully she was not angry at him but he could picture her laying on the bed with tight lips and narrowed eyes, claiming it for herself since she was annoyed at him.

He entered the room to find Nicolette had abandoned it. He was glad that she wasn't the vindictive sort of girl, slightly naïve—just as much as he—but she had let his decision settle and had returned to her castle without another fuss. His eyes scanned the room, disappointed Avalyn was not there.

However, there was a note on the stand by the bed, a rolled parchment. He thought it to be a farewell note from the Queen. He unrolled it and read over the words and paled. It was a farewell note but not from the hand of Nicolette. His entire happiness drained as he read the words within.

He wished that it had contained anyone Else's words—not Avalyn's.

_Dear Jaythen,_

_It is obvious to me that you are happy where you are with the one you love. I shall not be a burden to you any longer so this is my note of farewell. You were not here when I returned or else I would have told you face to face. You were right, my mother cannot be found, and frankly I have tired of searching. She does not want to be found and she certainly wants nothing to with me. I wish you the best in everything._

_~Ava_

He crumpled up the parchment and let it drop to the floor, seeing laid also on the table was the amulet with the amethyst jewel. She had always considered it her last hope, and he knew that by its being there the last of Avalyn's hope was gone. Alys was not there, and if she was she would never be found. Jaythen had failed her as well, as a friend for he let himself become sidetracked and at the very last moment when he realized she was everything to him, her hope had died. She was gone. This time however, it wasn't meant just for a fortnight—it was meant for good. How true her words were about happiness when someone was with their love. For now his love was gone and there was nothing but a stinging sorrow at her absence.

The reality had not hit him fully yet. He felt dumbstruck, and bewildered. He rolled onto the bed and fell asleep, wishing and wishing with all his might that the dream of Avalyn would return. However the sky was dark and no falling stars could be seen if they even fell to wish upon.

He awoke alone. His covers had not been stolen, there was no amazing girl next to him to greet him or even settled on the floor out of tenaciousness. He stared at the ceiling with the heaviest of sinking feelings in his heart—as though a part of him had died.

He knew now that his love for Avalyn could fill oceans and found it slightly naive when what seemed so long ago, he had told his dying father that he knew the difference between a lustful tryst and a loving relationship. At that point he considered himself to have had a loving relationship with the princess but after his infatuation cleared from the night before he knew Nicolette was the tryst. He had known her intimately and barely at all as a person, though he had been in her acquaintance over many months.

Yet, though he often shared a bed with the girl with green eyes in a literal sense, he had never been romantic with her. The few kisses they had shared were of pretend, to secure a charade or a debt of promise. He knew a great deal about her, and knew that he would risk his life for her—and their interaction was condensed into nearly two months of time. She had been his greatest friend, they had saved each others' lives, and he loved her—he just wished he had the chance to tell her before she gave up hope.

He dressed sluggishly, wondering how to even begin to look for her. Before, the driving force in her determination was finding Alys, and now he didn't know what would replace that. Perhaps she would return to Marv, the only other being that had been kind and loving towards her. She did love books after all and would probably be content to live there and do nothing but read the rest of her life—human or fey—with an eternal optimistic father figure. She must have assumed he would choose to stay with Nicolette from what he had told her that night in the Prition Gardens, how passionately he described his feelings toward the former princess—and because of that he had now lost Avalyn, and perhaps forever if she were to choose to exist as fey.

He let out a sigh and packed his belongings, putting the amulet into the pocket of his vest before checking out of the inn. Avalyn had taken nothing with her—even the quilt was still in his possession. She appeared into his life through a cloud of mist and disappeared just as swiftly as in a manner of a dream upon waking.

He should have probably gone home but he still felt that he owed it to Avalyn to find her mother, even though the desire on her end had waned to nothing. Maybe it was the end of his gallivanting, maybe it was time to return to Wendbury and face his cousin.

He bought passage on a ship that wasn't scheduled to leave for an hour, so he mulled about the dockside traders market in the meantime. His eyes roamed the goods of the sellers. They shouted at him to make bargains but he tuned them out as his mind wasn't in a state to comprehend much. His eyes landed on a stand of jewelry and they stopped abruptly as he saw a beautiful white-gold banded ring with an emerald set at the center. He had to wonder if it was the ring he had given to Avalyn, for a part of his mind managed to remember the Isles did manufacture a good amount of white gold jewelry. Still—he looked at it and his heart took to beating.

"You see something you like?" the vendor asked as Jaythen had been standing there long enough.

"That ring," he swallowed, "Where is it from?"

"The band is white gold from here—" the vendor began to describe but Jaythen shook his head abruptly.

"No, I mean who owned it before you?"

The vendor gave him a curious glance, "A beautiful girl with hair as golden as the sun. She needed money for travel and so sold it—"

Upon hearing those words Jaythen leaned forward and grabbed the vendor's shirt, pulling him forward, "_When_?"

"Yesterday evening, sir."

Jaythen let the vendor go and regained composure.

He was hurt that she would rid herself of the only thing she could remember him by. He had told her she could keep it. Then, he supposed if it was hers, it was hers to sell. After all she had no extra money to get home. Still, something in him couldn't bear to leave it there.

"I'll take it."

"How much do you have?"

He dumped what was left of the Saint Toby Lad's purse to pay. "I will give you all of this for that."

The vendor agreed at the sight of so much glitter, not even bothering to count it, just swiping it over to his own finance holdings. Jaythen snatched it from the fingers of the vendor and slipped it his pocket—glad to have at least something that was a part of them both. It was a symbol of their time together, the item that had made all their pretending to seem true.

He paced briskly through the market, now his mind in a blur. If she had sold the ring the evening before to obtain traveling money, then she planned on leaving. The only way to leave was by ship, and ships never departed past dusk so that meant...she was still there. She had either left earlier that morning or was perhaps still on the waterfront, waiting to board the same ship as he. He launched himself into a run up and down through the market searching for her.

He could see no golden hair, she was a tall lass but he was taller and could see over the heads of the people. Nothing. Then, he heard something familiar though the bustle and it caused him to stop his movement. He tilted his head and heard a lullaby that he knew well, faint—but it floated to his senses.

"_If I had words_—_"_

He searched around him, pushing through people.

"_To make a day for you_—"

They shouted at him for rudely knocking into them.

"_I'd sing you a morning golden and new_—_"_

He tipped over a basket of fruit and had to hastily help the seller put them back in. The lullaby was fading through the crowd so he leapt up and apologized quickly for not finishing the help.

"_I would make this day last for all time._—

His heart was beating so hard as the song grew in tone, although there was no one in his view that had golden hair. Where was she? Where was the girl with green eyes?

"_And fill the night with moonshine_—"

He stopped abruptly, realizing there was a shorter woman with dark hair in front of him and she was the songstress. She then began to hum the tune as she picked through a display of vegetables.

His heart filled with disappointment, realizing it was not who he sought. The woman turned and made a little yelp of surprise at him standing so near, "Excuse me sir."

"That lullaby—" he breathed, letting his heart pace slow from it's excited state.

She stopped and stared at him with curiosity.

"Yes? What of it?"

He found himself smiling, "Nothing. My apologies—it reminded me of someone dear to me."

The woman smiled warmly and touched his arm, "There, there, I understand. I sing it for the same reason. It reminds me of me dear daughter, though she cannot hear it, I sing it to feel close to her."

Jaythen stopped thinking, he had heard similar words uttered before—finally he started to pay attention. He looked at the woman closely—she was small, pretty, and had the small start of a crinkle around her eyes. Her eyes, a very lush green that had once been bright he could tell, familiar the way they were widened in curiosity at him—

"Alys?" He whispered, sure it was she. Though it was slightly surreal to find a lady who had seemed invisible to the world.

Her smile dropped and she removed her touch of comfort at once, now frowning. Her voice was suddenly hard and suspicious. "How do you know my true name? Who sent you?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the amulet, setting it in her palm, "No one sent me—she just wanted to find you but after the years of waiting and the months of travel without a single sighting—she has given up. I believe this is yours, madam."

Alys stared at the jewelry, disbelief and tears welled into her eyes, "Ava. Ava was _here_?"

He nodded his head, "She was for certain yesterday evening but has since then gone her own way."

Alys sniffed back her tears and gripped the amulet with determination, "I must see her."

"She might already be gone, I'm departing in less than an hour to see if I can catch her—"

"I don't care, I'll be joining you sir." She shook her head and took off towards a structure. He waited at the door, a little perplexed that after all this time, Alys was being proactive in wanting to see her daughter again.

She emerged with a small sack, and bit into one of the vegetables he had bought previously, "Let us go."

"Madam, do you have enough money?"

"Yes, more than enough,"

"How will you find her?"

"I have my ways," she replied cryptically.

Jaythen's anger grew suddenly, "Why do you even care to find her now if you hadn't for the past twelve years?"

She glared at him, "Because for the first time in twelve years I _know_ she is _alive_. Don't shout at a woman who had thought she lost her heart and soul only to just find out it is not gone forever. You can count on this woman to do anything to get her daughter back—_anything_. Do you understand me sir?"

His curiosity was suddenly piqued at how in the world Alys thought that Avalyn had been deceased all this while. He wondered about a lot of things that Alys had the power to shed light on but for now his questions would have to wait as they had a ship to board, and perhaps just maybe Avalyn would be there as well.

"What are you called?" Alys called over her shoulder.

"Jaythen!" He replied, making his best to maneuver through the market without tripping himself or others. Alys was even less graceful, often bumping into carts and merchants but paying no mind to their objectionable chiding.

"How did you know I was here?"

"We were told you were here and also that Selendrile wanted to see you."

Alys halted so abruptly Jaythen crashed into her, causing her to loose balance. He caught her by her arm, "What is it? Who is _Selendrile?_"

She avoided the question and asked another one, "Did he see her? Did he see Ava?"

"Yes," Jaythen answered before he wondered if she meant the Saint Toby's lad or the actual _Selendrile_. He didn't have the chance to clarify. Alys threw a curse and began to rush even quicker to the docks.

It was worrisome, the hysteric tone of her voice. Was Avalyn in a danger of some sort? Alys bought passage on the same ship as he and they boarded. Within the half hour they had departed back to sea, back to their home realm. Alys and Jaythen walked the deck, looking out for any sign of Avalyn, but since Alys had not had the privilege to see her daughter in many years it was mostly the young lord's responsibility to spot her.

"Why would she have left so soon?" Alys wondered, "If she had just arrived to find me?"

He thought it was because Avalyn had given up her hope to find the woman, "She grew weary in her search for you."

Alys looked struck, then a great sadness filled her eyes, "I should have never given her up…"

"You were supposed to return for her!"

"I was told that she had died! She had died of illness before her sixth birthday."

"_Who_ told you such a thing?"

"A lady who knew of my situation, who helped me find a way to keep my baby safe."

"Safe from _what_?"

Alys threw him a glare at all his questioning, "_Selendrile_."

Jaythen was by far more perplexed with the details of Alys than anything he had ever heard. She turned on him, "And what are you to Ava, sir?"

She actually poked him in his chest rather harshly. He brought his hands up and only could feel a slight grin tear at his lips. Alys studied him and she brought her hands to her mouth with a gasp, "Oh dear, you love her! Don't you?"

"I just recently realized—"

Her arms were thrown around him in a sudden approval, but at a loss,"I have missed out on so much—please, please find her. I need to see my daughter again."

"Yes," was all he managed between her tight squeezing.

She was not on the top deck, and if there was any sure place she would be was on the top deck, gazing at the ocean. Perhaps she had left on another boat after all. Or perhaps she flew…

"Did you know that your daughter can…turn?" Jaythen wondered. Avalyn had told him she only had started recently but he wondered if Alys would know since she should knew who the sire was, a fey sire.

Alys scrutinized him, "What do you mean?"

He leaned over and spoke quietly, one word— "_Dragon_."

He was startled as the lady lost her weight, nearly collapsing if not for him catching her and holding her upward. Alys had made another sharp gasp and seemed to swallow back a wail, "So it is true."

"What?"

"She told me my child could one day change and that is why I must leave her until I found a safe place for the both of us."

"How is this place safe? Who is Selendrile, why is he after you? How is he a danger?" a tumble of questions spilled out of him, he wanted to know everything of the girl's history to perhaps under stand it better.

"Selendrile, he is—the father," Alys spoke quietly and removed herself from his hold, taking shaky steps down the inner ship corridor as it rocked, refusing to look back at him. Her voice was croaky as if she hadn't told anyone these facts for a long time, ashamed.

"Why would he harm his own daughter? Why does he want to see you?"

"He didn't know," Alys shook her head, and then finally turned to face him with tears starting. "I never told him I was with his child. I ran because I was afraid."

"Why, why would you run?" Jaythen asked dismayed.

"Because he warned me if we were to ever produce a child from our union it would have to be destroyed. I agreed because I loved him and I didn't want to leave him.

"But you left him anyway."

Alys jolted forward from the motion of the ship, "Yes. Though I swear he was getting closer to finding me those first five years I was running from him."

"How could you love a dragon?"

She raised her brow, "Can I tell you something about love?"

He shrugged, not seeing what her words had to do with her previous ones, "Love can run as deep as your soul, but it also can branch and extend to more than one being. We—Selendrile and I were in love and I would have done _anything _to stay with him. But once I knew I was to have a child my love suddenly was torn because the one thing I would not do was destroy our unborn child for I knew I loved that child just as much."

"Did he tell you why your child should be destroyed?"

"He didn't elaborate," she suddenly acquired a cold look in her eyes, "So I left, it was all I could do. I was afraid he would destroy the child if he found out—and then I found that woman and she told me the way I could be safe. I would have to separate from Ava and find a place to live where fey could not enter—back there in the Isles. It is rich with iron and wards off fey with their iron talismans protruding from the sea. I saw her again when she brought me the news Ava had died and I despaired and remained here in my lonely isolation."

"Who, who is this woman who has told you these things? She cannot be your ally to tell you Ava had died when clearly she is still alive."

"I do not know her name."

"What did she look like?"

"She wore white—"

Jaythen grabbed Alys's shoulders tightly and flipped her around, "Did she have raven hair and dark eyes?"

"Well, yes. _Why_?"

A dread rose in Jaythen's chest, suddenly very fearful for Avalyn's life. The woman in white hadn't _just _discovered Avalyn since Scharberlutes—she had known of Avalyn's existence since she was born because she must of known what Avalyn was and would become. The woman had separated the mother from the daughter, but _why_ hadn't she slain the girl with green eyes yet if she knew where the girl would be for the last twelve years? What was the witch waiting for exactly? He closed his eyes with a shaky breath.

"The woman in white is a witch, a very powerful witch who wants to slay Avalyn for her blood," he explained all that knew that he heard from the Saint Toby's lad about the situation, why her blood was so valuable, and how the woman in white could follow the girl's songs. She took it all in, the _truth_ of the danger Avalyn was in, the deceit of all those around her. He repeated the fact to Alys to bring her out of a dreadful daze, "Alys, seventeen years ago you bore a child into this world who was of half, you must know this."

"Eighteen," was all she replied.

"What?"

"It will be eighteen years tomorrow that I bore a child of half into this world, I know for it was a month precisely after the spring equinox."

He frowned, and realized that it meant that Avalyn would reach her adult age in less than twenty-four hours—in less than twenty four hours she would have to choose which existence she would live or her body would destroy itself from not being able to harbor both her bloods. The boat voyage was nearly a week, and if she was not on board then it would be too late to confess his love.

He stood there with a grip on the peculiar mother's shoulders with his heart crashing at knowing he would probably lose the girl he loved, and at her mother's heartbreak for the time lost to be with her daughter and to know she could lose her again.

"Why do you trust me so easily after all who have deceived you?" he peered down to study Alys. He wasn't just referring to the White Witch's deceit, but also the people who had turned on her when she was just a girl, the fey lover that had not told her the truth about what kind of child they would conceive if they should unite. He looked deep into the woman's eyes that were fearful, tired, and seemed to hold a lifetime of sad memories.

"Because you love my daughter. I trust that you would do anything to protect her, and you're the only way I will be able to see her again."

A tiny, endeared smile played at her lips despite the despair around them, she reached up and held the side of his face in a motherly-fashion which tugged on his own heartstrings for being reminded of his own mother.

"You know how it feels to love a dragon."


End file.
